


I Feel Your Echo on My Skin

by darrinya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Suicidal ideation mentioned, Trauma, and weird slow burn even though it's an established relationship by like scene six, awkward meet cute, canon-compliant death only, my weird brand of humor strikes again, wizards have iphones because i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darrinya/pseuds/darrinya
Summary: "Apparently, we're dating," Draco says, ignoring Astoria's last comment. "I ruined my relationship before I knew it started.""You don't know that it's ruined," Astoria reminds him."I had a panic attack because he pointed a sparkly pink wand at me," Draco says.In which Draco has no idea how to deal with his grief and trauma, a painting of his dead wife offers relationship advice, and a Muggle boyfriend helps Draco heal.(OC created by @scorpiusdraco on tumblr)
Relationships: Background Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Draco Malfoy & Scorpius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/OC
Comments: 130
Kudos: 184





	1. You May Be in the Ground but You're Never Out of Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is so self-indulgent, but I really don't care. :P 
> 
> This author does not support JKR's offensive views, whether they are that of race or the LGBTQA+ movement. Honestly, the author wishes they weren't so hyperfixated on Harry Potter, but since they can't get rid of her obsession, they'll just make the HP stories that they wish JKR would have written.

Draco is trying his best not to drown.

His son Scorpius huddles close, tightly gripping Draco’s hand. They watch as the casket lowers into the ground.

Draco scoops up a handful of dirt and holds it out over the open grave. As the dirt slips through Draco’s fingers, he feels Astoria begin to slip away.

.

After the funeral, Draco and Scorpius return home. Astoria’s presence lingers in every room, and the ghost of her perfume whispers through the air. If Draco closes his eyes, he can pretend that none of this happened, that Astoria is waiting for him to move or breathe or speak.

“I’m hungry,” Scorpius whispers.

Draco starts at the sound of Scorpius’s voice. The house is too large without Astoria there, and even the smallest noise seems out of place.

“Of course, love,” Draco says absently. 

While Draco cooks, Scorpius sits in one of the kitchen chairs, his heel kicking against the leg of the chair. With every soft _thump,_ Draco’s head begins to throb. A part of him wants to tell Scorpius to be quiet, but the boy’s _mother just died._

Draco needs to be understanding. He wants to; he is genuinely _trying--_

Scorpius’s heel _thunks_ against the chair leg one more time, and Draco feels his entire face twitch. Scorpius immediately stills.

“I’m, uh--I just realized that I’m not actually very hungry?” Scorpius blurts out before stumbling out of the room.

Draco stands in the kitchen alone, clutching a freshly peeled onion and a knife. He should run after Scorpius. He should apologize or explain or do anything, _anything,_ other than keep chopping.

He can’t do this without her. He doesn’t know how.

But Draco promised himself and Astoria a long time ago that he would not repeat his father’s mistakes. With shaky hands, Draco washes the onion juice off, then goes to find Scorpius.

Draco finds Scorpius curled up in Astoria’s wardrobe, his face buried in one of her coats. Draco crouches down with a sigh.

“I’m not--!” Scorpius cries, his voice hiccuping on the last syllable.

Draco gathers Scorpius into a hug, resting his cheek on Scorpius’s hair.

“I know,” Draco says numbly. 

He can feel Scorpius’s flushed face pressed against his chest and the tears soaking through his shirt. Scorpius’s shoulders begin to shake, and strangled sobs arise from his throat. 

A tight, scratchy sensation begins to claw its way up Draco’s throat. He cannot fight the voice whispering that _he should not be here._

“It’s going to be okay,” Draco says.

He always was a bad liar.

.

Draco hangs Astoria’s portrait in the sitting room, which earns a few odd looks from the little visitors they have.

“Pansy and Blaise think it’s unhealthy,” Draco says one night, long after Scorpius has gone to bed. “This. Talking to you.”

“What do you think?” Astoria asks.

“I don’t know,” Draco mutters, his nails digging into his palms.

“I thought we agreed a long time ago not to lie to each other,” Astoria says. She pauses delicately, and Draco hates the calculating sympathy washing over her face. “Have you cried for me yet?”

“You know I can’t,” Draco says tightly.

“Why?”

The skin under his nails stings, but Draco clenches his hands even more tightly.

“You know, my love,” Draco says, too tired to live. “You know.”

.

It’s a peculiar thing to feel jealous of one’s son.

Four passes, and Draco watches as Scorpius practically blossoms. He’s always vibrating--restless, talkative, _Albus_ this, _Albus_ that. 

Meanwhile, Draco is still drowning.

He imagines that Astoria is still there sometimes, brushing her fingers along his arm, running her fingers through his hair. 

It’s been a year. Draco should be over this by now--for Scorpius’s sake, he _needs_ to get over it. Scorpius deserves a parent who can be there for him, not this lackluster imitation of a father.

Not for the first time, it occurs to Draco that the wrong parent died.

.

Voldemort almost returned, and everyone is just acting like this is completely normal. Draco supposes that, for the magical world, it’s not too far fetched. But Scorpius and Albus almost _died._ Scorpius saw things he should never have seen; Scorpius was _tortured._

Back to school for the both of them because Dumbledore _forbid_ they miss out on their education due to something as miniscule as _trauma._

Back home, Draco pours himself a glass of wine (and another and another).

“You’re upset,” Astoria observes from her painting.

“Our son nearly died,” Draco mumbles. “You wanna see me rolling in rainbows?”

“You saved him,” Astoria says.

Draco tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Before Scorpius was born, Draco and Astoria used magic to paint stars in almost every room. The shimmering specks winking at him from their velvet rest burn into his eyes, but he does not look away.

“We were almost too late,” he whispers.

“Have you cried for me, Draco?” Astoria asks for what feels like the one hundredth time.

“Please stop,” Draco begs, shame creeping up his spine over how close his voice is to breaking.

Astoria asks, “Have you even tried?” 

“We’ve talked about this already,” Draco says tiredly. “I’m not going over it again.”

Astoria’s lips tighten, but she says nothing in response.

.

**Draco: How’s school?**

**Scorpius: great! Rose doesn’t hate me any more for saying that she smells like bread**

**Scorpius: omg**

**Scorpius: forget I sent that**

**Scorpius: I did NOT send that**

**Draco: But you did**

**Scorpius: HA HA HA HA HA NO I DID NOT**

**Scorpius: also Albus accidentally transfigured your Christmas gift into a rat**

**Scorpius: and we can’t figure out how to fix it and he’s too embarrassed to ask Prof Mcgonagall**

**Scorpius: on a completely random note can I have a pet**

.

Next Saturday night, Draco slams into a random Muggle in the streets.

It was Draco’s fault, naturally. He was barely paying attention, so focused was he on getting to the restaurant in time, and so he just knocked this hapless bystander onto the ground.

“Merlin,” Draco says, helping the man up. “I’m sorry, are you okay? I--”

“--so sorry, I wasn’t watching, and--”

“No, it was my fault--”

The stranger looks up at Draco, blinking owlishly behind a pair of square lenses. Draco realizes belatedly that he and the man are still touching and yanks his hand away.

“Sorry,” Draco says again, his face beginning to flush.

The Muggle stares at him, blue eyes wide. 

“Nice,” the man says, gesturing toward Draco. When Draco does not respond, the Muggle adds, “Your clothes? They look cool.”

Draco swallows, his mouth dry. He’s still in his wizard robes, and no doubt the Muggle thinks that Draco is in a cult.

“Are you off to some kind of fancy-dress?” the man asks.

“Yes,” Draco says abruptly. 

The man pauses, his eyes flickering over Draco’s form, and Draco resists the urge to Apparate away in front of him.

“Right,” the man says awkwardly. “I won’t keep you, then.”

The Muggle walks away, but the tingle in Draco’s hand is still there.

Maybe Draco’s hand is defective now, to match the rest of his life.

.

After enduring the most awkward dinner of his life, Draco leaves the restaurant.

The Potters are trying. He keeps reminding himself every time that he sees them. The Potters are not the problem--Draco is.

He can’t find it within himself to care about getting along with them (or to even try). Draco likes Albus; the Potters like Scorpius. Draco sees no reason to sit through tedious meetings with them during which they discuss such scintillating topics like the weather and . . . something about Hogwarts and the Ministry. Honestly, Draco cannot even remember.

He nearly trips over someone who is crawling around on the ground.

Muffling a curse, Draco stumbles back, only to see the Muggle from before looking up with surprise.

“Oh, it’s you,” the Muggle says. “Hi, again.”

“Do you always traverse the streets like this?” Draco asks. “Or is this a recent development?”

The Muggle’s mouth falls open slightly, and Draco feels his stomach twist. He should know by now not to open his mouth.

To Draco’s surprise, the Muggle starts to laugh.

“I dropped my keys earlier,” he explains. “I guess I do look pretty weird. I promise I don’t go around the city like this on a normal basis.”

Draco crouches down stiffly and begins to peer down at the ground.

“Oh, you don’t have to--”

“It’s the least I can do,” Draco cuts him off, “especially since I’m the one who knocked you over.”

It’s hard to tell in the low light, but it almost looks like the Muggle is blushing. He quickly looks away, and Draco breathes a silent sigh of relief. 

“Accio keys,” Draco whispers so quietly that he can barely hear his own voice.

A ring of keys shoot into Draco’s hand, and he turns to the Muggle. The Muggle stares at the keys, then at Draco.

“That was fast,” he says. “How’d you . . .”

“Magic,” Draco deadpans.

Draco forces himself not to snatch his hand away when the Muggle’s fingers brush against his.

“You’re a lifesaver,” the Muggle says, tucking his keys into his pocket. He grins at Draco. “I’m Benji.”

“Draco.” 

When Draco turns to leave, Benji calls out, “Wait!”

Draco pauses, his eyebrow arching. Benji flushes.

“I don’t--I don’t normally ask this, especially since we’re both strangers. But uh--” Benji stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets. “Kinda seems like fate, you know? Bumping into you twice in one night.”

Draco stares at Benji with an utter lack of comprehension.

“You wanna grab a drink sometime?” Benji asks. 

Ah. Pansy and Blaise mentioned this kind of thing to Draco a few times. Apparently, some people are able to ask complete strangers out without worrying about serial killers or undercover reporters trying to find dirt.

Draco should say no. He should go home and go to bed and get his trainwreck of a life in order by morning.

“Depends,” Draco drawls. “Where would this _drink grabbing_ take place?”

 _Shut up. Shut up; shut_ **_up._ **

“Pub if you’re feeling casual,” Benji says with a cheeky grin. “But if you’re feeling posh, I’m sure we could make other arrangements.

_Leave. Leave now. He’s a random Muggle. You’re a 42 year old widower. Stop talking to him._

“Your offer is definitely intriguing,” Draco says. “But I’m afraid that I prefer a little more background knowledge about my . . . drinking arrangements.”

Benji’s mouth slips up into an even wider grin.

“I’m sure we could figure something out,” he says.

Fuck Draco’s life.

.

It is only when Draco is lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when he remembers Astoria. 

Draco’s throat tightens. He got through an entire _conversation_ with Benji. They exchanged _phone numbers,_ for God’s sake. 

He didn’t think of Astoria once, which . . . That’s a problem. It has been barely over a year, and Draco is already forgetting her. 

He should delete Benji’s number. Better yet, he should set his phone on fire. The only reason Draco got a phone was because Scorpius wanted to text him. Scorpius can just send letters like _every other child_ at Hogwarts. 

His phone dings. 

**Scorpius: love you dad! hope you had a good day :)))**

In conclusion, Draco is doomed.

Draco sits up from bed, massaging the area around his eyes. He steals into the sitting room where Astoria’s painting hangs.

“I’m sorry,” Draco chokes out, a tightness in his throat.

“Why?” Astoria asks.

“I forgot,” Draco says. “About you. There was this man, and I--”

A smile begins to curve its way up Astoria’s lips.

“Stop it,” Draco hisses. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Was he handsome?” Astoria asks.

_“Astoria--”_

Astoria says pleasantly, “Draco.” She pauses, tilting her head. “I’m dead. It’s probably time you remembered that.”

“I’m well aware,” Draco says.

“Then stop living as if you don’t,” Astoria says urgently.

Draco leans against the wall, his eyes shut tightly. At the moment, peering upon Astoria’s face all but burns his eyes.

“Have you cried for me yet?” Astoria asks.

Draco’s hands begin to shake.

.

**Benji: any chance I could see that fancy dress again? 😏**

**Draco: No.**

**Benji: pleeeeeaaaaaase? I deserve some serotonin lol**

**Draco: Find it somewhere else.**

**Benji: fine 😂**

**Benji: wanna see a cute pic of a kitten?**

.

One week later, and they’re sitting in this tiny, hole-in-the-wall cafe, sipping on tea. Draco would rather be drowning his sorrows in alcohol right now, but apparently ten in the morning is too early for wine.

He hates this. These stupid Muggle clothes are giving him hives, and Benji keeps casting curious glances his way. Draco doesn’t understand what those looks are supposed to _mean,_ but he does know that he _should._ Ergo, Draco cannot _ask_ what they mean and instead has to sit here, suffering in silence.

“So what do you do for a living?” Benji asks.

“I’m an author,” says Draco.

Benji’s face lights up. “Cool! What kind of stuff do you write?”

Draco thinks about the stacks of essays and articles about the Dark Arts, nefarious potions, and cursed objects. He pictures Benji’s reaction when Draco tells him that Draco wrote an autobiography about his days as the magical equivalent of a Nazi terrorist.

“Nonfiction,” Draco says. Before Benji can ask any follow-up questions, Draco asks, “And you?”

“I teach nursery school,” Benji says.

Draco mentally adds another name to his List of People Who Are Probably Insane.

.

**Benji: MY LITTLE GIRL JUST DREW SMILEY FACES ALL OVER THE WALLS**

**Benji: I’m thinking of posting a pic on the interwebs**

**Benji: Imma make my girl internet famous**

**Draco: You have a daughter?**

**Benji: oh**

**Benji: crap**

**Benji: did I forget to tell you? 😂**

**Draco: Well, I didn’t tell you that I have a son, so I suppose we’re even.**

**Benji: !!!!!!!**

**Benji: how old? My daughter Sophie is 5**

**Draco: Sixteen.**

**Draco: May I see the smiley faces?**

.

Draco thinks about telling someone, about . . . whatever this is. It’s too early to talk about it, though, right? Whatever _it_ is.

_This is so stupid this is so stupid this is so stupid this is--_

Draco adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves in front of his mirror. He looks paler than usual, the black of his shirt and trousers only sharpening the contrast between his clothes and his skin.

He shouldn’t go. He should just delete Benji’s contact information and pretend that none of this happened. Draco has a pile of unfinished manuscripts hiding in his desk, a list of questions the Ministry has about the Dark Arts, and a general sense of foreboding whispering in his ear.

Draco knots his tie carefully, then slips a jacket over his shoulders.

On his way out, Astoria smiles at him from her painting. Draco’s heart constricts.

Draco rests his hand against the canvas, and she brings up her hand to align with his. Draco closes his eyes.

_Palm against palm, skin against skin._

Except not really. The only thing Draco can feel is the rough texture of paint on canvas shifting under his hand.

“Is this okay?” Draco asks, desperate to hear something-- _anything--_ that will tell him what to do.

“Is what okay?” 

“Benji,” Draco says. “I keep feeling like I’m--”

_Like I’m cheating on you._

“Are you asking my permission to go on a date?” Astoria asks, a wry smile coloring her voice.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Draco says, his voice cracking slightly.

“Have you cried for me?” Astoria asks.

Draco’s eyes fly open, and he yanks his hand away as if the paint burned him.

 _“Why_ do you keep asking me?” he demands.

“Because you never answer,” Astoria says.

Draco straightens his tie, avoiding Astoria’s eyes, and walks out of the room as quickly as he can without running.

.

“All of a sudden, I feel very underdressed,” Benji remarks.

Draco flushes. 

They're sitting at a table next to a large window that overlooks the busy London streets. Benji opens the menu before a small, strangled sound emits from his throat.

“Um,” Benji says, “random, possibly offensive question. Are you rich?”

Draco wants to die. Draco wants to find the deepest, blackest hole to throw himself into, far away from the eyes of humanity.

“They donate all their profits to charity,” Draco blurts out.

“That’s . . . not what I asked, but okay.”

“We can go somewhere else if you want,” Draco says.

“No, it’s fine; I just--” Benji laughs nervously. “I, like, paid for the last time? But it was just tea at a cafe. It was barely anything compared to this, and I--”

 _Take me now,_ Draco prays miserably. _O Blessed Death, I await thee with open arms._

“--and wow, your books must be super popular because--”

“No,” Draco says loudly. Benji stops talking abruptly, his eyes widening. “My books aren’t popular.” By Muggle standards, at least. “I . . . received a good-sized inheritance when I was younger.”

“Right,” Benji says awkwardly.

Draco tries to read the menu, but his head hurts too much for him to focus on the words. He should have known that this was going to end in failure. He should have known the moment Benji smiled that dorky grin that it would end in flames.

Merlin, these probably aren't even real dates. Benji probably just felt sorry for the weird man who body-slammed him to the ground and offered to hang out with him out of a twisted sense of compassion.

“So does this mean you’ll pay for my daughter’s tuition at uni?” Benji asks.

Draco feels a part of his brain shut down. _Tuition?_ Benji's daughter is _five_ years old, and they're talking about uni? This is only their second--

Their second _whatever-the-Hell-this-is._

"Oh, shite," says Benji. "That's not what I--I swear I'm not a gold-digger. I just--"

Benji groans and buries his face in his hands. The spiteful part of Draco is relieved that he is not the only one who does not know how to talk to people.

The Draco that tries to be a good role model for his son takes pity on Benji.

"If it makes you feel better, ninety percent of my childhood friends were gold-diggers," Draco says, "and we're still friends even though they're rich, too. So even if you _are_ a gold-digger, that doesn't mean that I won't enjoy your company."

Benji looks up at Draco, his mouth opening and closing without a sound.

_"You really don't know how to comfort people, do you?" Potter asks dryly._

Draco deletes that memory from his brain. The _hypocrisy_ of that man--

No. He deleted it. It's gone now.

"I get the sense that you have a collection of interesting tales to tell," says Benji.

Draco isn't sure how to respond that, but Benji is smiling. Draco has noticed that Benji has the kind of grin that makes the recipient feel like they're the only one Benji is smiling at. It's one of the most irritating things about him, to be honest. How is Draco supposed to know if Benji is actually smiling at him, if he even likes Draco, when he grins like that at _everyone?_

"What kind of wine would you recommend?" Benji asks abruptly, his face flushing slightly.

Draco feels himself relax now that they're back on familiar territory.

.

**Albus: eyyyyyyy come hang in the commons babe!!!! 😘 game night in session rose snuck in and im about to demolish her winner gets the bottle of wine. come soon before we drink it all**

**Draco: I don't think you have the right number.**

**Albus: oH FRICK**

**Albus: uhhhhhhhhhh new number who dis**

**Albus: plz dont tell dad 😭**

**Draco: Get rid of the wine and I'll think about it.**

**.**

**Draco: Scorpius, you are in no circumstances allowed to drink alcohol, with or without your boyfriend.**

**Scorpius: ??????**

**Scorpius: OH**

**Scorpius: Dad. Please don't tell Mr Potter 🥺**

**Draco: Did you get rid of the wine?**

**Scorpius: I WILL LITERALLY RECORD ALBUS DUMPING IT PLEASE DON'T TELL OMG I'M SO SORRY I SWEAR I WASN'T GONNA DRINK ANY ANYWAY**

**[Scorpius has sent a video.]**

**Scorpius: OK CAN I TELL ALBUS THAT YOU WON'T TELL NOW????**

**Draco: Hmmmmm.**

**Draco: I'll have to get back to you on that.**

**Scorpius: 😩😭😭**

**Draco: Fine. But just remember that underage drinking leads to an increase in unwanted pregnancies.**

**Scorpius: wHAT 😳**

**Scorpius: but we're both guys**

**Draco: And also violent rampages and dead people.**

**Scorpius: um**

**Draco: Not to mention all the accidental transfigurations. Do you really want every one of your belongings to become rats? For Albus's own good, be a hero and abstain from alcohol.**

**Scorpius: I don't... ok. I promise.**

****.

**Benji: My students make me want to vomit angry rainbows**

**Draco: I don't understand.**

**Benji: They're MONSTERS but they're so CUTE and I want to hug them and keep them forever but also lock them in a dark cold jail for a thousand years**

**Draco: ...**

**Benji: I'm not a psychopath**

**Draco: I didn't say you were.**

**Benji: I just wish they would look uglier when they commit nefarious deeds**

**Draco: Ah. Does Sophie give you the same problem?**

**Benji: YES**

**Benji: She dumped sparkles all over my good suit and just told me that the fairies wanted to give me a gift. HOW DARE SHE BE SO ADORABLE**

**Benji: She is a perfect angel but also a supervillain**

**Benji: I bet Scorpius gave you a rough time when he was young, right**

**Draco: No. My son was always perfect.**

**Benji: 😠**

**Draco: I can't help it that my child is so much better than yours.**

**Benji: fIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU**

**Benji: And second of all**

**Benji: Did you just use a meme? 😂 Have I... have I finally corrupted you?**

**Draco: Silence, pathetic mortal.**

**Draco: I know not of what you speak.**

**Benji: :DDDDDDD**

**.**

Draco still has no clue what's happening. They're on their seventh meeting, and Draco genuinely cannot tell what Benji wants from him. 

They mostly just . . . talk. And stare awkwardly at each other.

Draco feels constantly on edge whenever Benji's around. Draco has no idea how he's supposed to talk to Benji, how he's supposed react to anything Benji does or says. Benji is so . . . open. It's _easy_ for him to smile or laugh or make facial expressions in general, and he acts like this is completely normal.

Maybe it is. Maybe Draco just has no idea what friendship looks like. (It's friendship, right? They're friends?)

"You'll enjoy this," Benji assures Draco as they make their way to the cinema. "It has magic in it!"

"Oh, joy," Draco mutters under his breath. As if he hasn't had enough of that already.

Out of the corner of Draco's eye, he notices a young witch staring intently at him and rapidly making her way over.

Draco considers the pros and cons of Apparating away.

 **Pro:** He wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

 **Con:** He would break the Statute of Secrecy, and Benji would probably never speak to Draco ever again.

 **Pro:** _Draco wouldn't have to talk to anyone._

"Mr. Malfoy!" the witch shouts, waving her hand. Draco notices with a stifled groan that she has one of his books in her other hand. "Mr. Malfoy, wait!"

Benji watches with visible surprise as the witch all but throws herself at Draco, her pinned up hair straggling its way out of her witch hat. She offers Draco a pen, her eyes wide with adoration.

"Sign for me?" she breathes. "My cousin's birthday is in a week."

Draco wants to scream when he sees the title of the book. _Prisoner of My Own Mind: The Dangers of the Death Eater Ideology_ winks up at him, and an angsty portrait of his early-thirties self glares out at him.

"I don't really--," Draco starts to say stiffly.

"My cousin," the witch begins to say before her voice breaks. "She was just so--so _trapped,_ you know? And none of us knew what to do, but your book just _spoke_ to her, and--" She begins to sob. "Thank you so much! I don't know what would have happened without you!"

Draco can practically feel Benji's eyes burning a hole into his skin. With a tightly controlled mask over his face, Draco snatches the pen and book away, scrawling _Stay strong. I'm rooting for you. Draco Malfoy._

"Her name's Adelaide," the witch adds oh-so-helpfully.

Silently seething, Draco scribbles _Addallaiyde_ above his message. He hands the book and pen back to the witch, and the witch seizes his face in her hands, kissing him on both cheeks. Draco stumbles away and grabs Benji's hand, practically breaking out into a run.

"I LOVE YOU, MR. MALFOY!" the witch screeches.

Draco doesn't stop dragging Benji away until the witch is little more than a blurred dot on the horizon.

Benji all but collapses from laughter.

"What," he gasps, _"what_ was that?"

Draco tries to think of something to say, but his brain is too busy focusing on the fact that he is still holding Benji's hand. 

"And you say you're not a popular author," Benji says.

Draco needs to let go of Benji's hand. Except Benji's fingers are intertwined with his, and Draco worries that he will have to peel each finger away to detach himself.

"Hey, what's a Death Eater?" Benji asks.

Draco yanks his hand away. Turns out it was much easier than he thought.

"I was raised in a cult," Draco says curtly. "Shall we go see the movie now?"

Benji's smile falls away.

.

In the darkness of the theater, mere inches away from each other, while the previews echo in their ears, Benji whispers, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Draco whispers back.

"You just told me you were raised in a cult."

"That doesn't mean I want to talk about it," Draco says through gritted teeth.

Someone shushes them, and Benji rolls his eyes. 

"It's literally just the previews," he says.

"They're really interesting, though!" the Muggle snaps.

A bunch of more shushes issue from throughout the cinema, and Draco leans his head back against the seat. His hair keeps getting caught in the fake velvet of the seats. If Draco focuses on the odd, straggly feeling that the seat gives his scalp, then he doesn't have to think about how cold his hands are.

Should he have pulled his hand away? It wasn't a particularly _bad_ feeling, Benji's palm clasped against Draco's, but it wasn't a particularly . . . _normal_ feeling, either. 

Benji whispers, "If you ever feel like talking about it, I'm--"

The film begins, and everyone shushes Benji once more.

.

After the film ends, Draco half-expects Benji to keep asking about the whole former cult member backstory, but Benji just smiles at him.

Wonderful. More indecipherable lip movements.

"Hey, I was wondering," Benji says. "Do you want--"

His phone rings, and Benji looks down with a muffled curse.

"I'm so sorry," he says. "I have--I have to take this."

Draco shrugs to indicate that Benji's phone calls are no business of his, and Benji answers.

"Hey, Nancy," he says. "Is this an emergency? I'm kinda--" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Nancy, but I--" His entire body tenses, and Draco feels the urge to gently push Benji's hunched shoulders back. "Okay. I'll be there. Just--I know, it's fine. I'll see you in a bit."

Benji hangs up and turns to Draco, his face falling. 

"I'm really sorry," Benji says. "My ex--it was her turn with Sophie tonight, but there's been a family emergency, and I--"

"Your daughter is more important," Draco says.

"I know, I just feel really bad--"

"If it makes you feel better," Draco says slowly, his brain screaming at him to shut up, "I could come with you."

Benji's eyes widen.

"You--you don't mind?"

"As long as it doesn't bother you," Draco says stiffly. 

"No, no, it--I mean, Sophie has been asking to meet you for _ages--"_

Draco feels his mind go blank. Benji told his _daughter_ about Draco? _Why?_

Benji is already grabbing Draco's hand and hailing a taxi. When Draco's hand does not so much as twitch, Benji glances down and pulls his hand away. 

"Sorry," he says, flushing.

Draco wants to hex himself into oblivion.

.

The door swings open to reveal a tired looking woman who is presumably Nancy. Before she can say anything, a tiny figure in bright pink pyjamas darts out and leaps into Benji's arms.

"Daddy!" Sophie exclaims. "Mummy said that we could play fairies tonight!"

Benji plants a kiss into her hair and hugs her close.

"Of course, princess," Benji says. "Could you go grab your fairy wands first?"

Sophie jumps down and darts away, shouting, "Yay!"

Draco stands back, feeling extremely awkward as Nancy practically collapses into Benji's arms.

"Thank you," she says, her voice dry and thin. "I know you had plans."

"Are you okay?" Benji whispers.

Nancy pulls away and attempts to smile. It doesn't quite reach her whole face.

"I honestly have no idea," she says. Her eyes shift to Draco, and surprise flits across her expression. "Who . . ."

"Oh, that's my boyfriend," Benji says casually.

Draco's brain momentarily stops processing all sound and sight.

Boyfriend. _Boyfriend._ Boyfriend?! When did that happen? Benji just decided, _Oh, yeah, that's my boyfriend,_ with more surety than Draco could call Benji his _friend._

Benji is ushering Draco into the house, his hand on Draco's back. Draco's brain is still in a constant feedback loop of _what the Hell what the Hell what the Hell--_

"I found the wands, Daddy!" Sophie cries, running back into the room. She skids to a stop when she sees Draco, her mouth dropping open.

"Hey, princess," Benji starts to say.

Before he gets any further, Sophie races over to Draco and hugs him tightly.

"Are you a fairy?" she asks, reaching up to grab Draco's hair. "Your hair is so preeeeeetty!"

"Sophie," Benji chides gently.

Draco hoists Sophie up into his arms.

"I regret to inform you that I am in fact completely human," Draco says somberly.

"Maybe you're a changeling," Sophie whispers, just as grave. "You could be a fairy and not know it. Mummy told me."

"Your mum told you that I was a changeling?" Draco asks.

 _"No,_ silly goofer, Mummy told me what changelings _were._ Did your mummy tell you about changelings?"

"My tutor did," Draco says.

Draco looks up to see a soft smile spreading across Benji's face.

"Draco isn't a fairy or a changeling," Benji says, kissing Sophie's forehead. Draco stiffens as Benji brushes against his arm. "He's the king of the elves."

Sophie squeals with joy.

.

Draco should have known. Draco should have known. Draco should have known he should have known he should have know _why didn't he know--_

"Draco? Draco? Draco, please--"

Hands clasped over the ears, breath trapped in the chest, hold on, hold on, hold on--

A dim part of Draco's mind is aware of hands against his skin.

_His father's hand pressed down on his neck, Voldemort's arms wrapped around Draco's body, Bellatrix' grabbing fistfuls of his hair, his father's cane across his stomach--_

Thin arms wrap around Draco's neck, and Sophie's face smushes against his.

Draco lurches to his feet, and Sophie almost falls over.

"I need--I need to go; I need--"

"Draco--"

Draco stumbles away, his eyes roving the room frantically. Benji's hands are up in a placating gesture, and Sophie's face has gone pale, her eyes widened.

"I'm sorry," Draco chokes out before fleeing from the room.

.

**Benji: Can we please talk?**

**Benji: Is there something I can do?**

**Benji: I'm really sorry. I don't know what I did but please tell me**

.

Draco rests his forehead against Astoria's.

"I ruined it, my love," he says.

"How so?" Astoria asks.

Draco places his hand on the portrait. If he closes his eyes, he can almost fool himself into believing that Astoria is still there, that he can still feel her in front of him.

"His daughter wanted to play fairies" falls from Draco's lips. "We had wands."

"What did you see?" asks Astoria.

Draco's mouth grows dry. It wasn't so much the wands that set him off. It was the look on Benji's face, the roar in his voice, as he pretended to be Sophie's evil fairy.

"It's stupid," Draco says. 

"Why?"

"It's been over two decades," hisses Draco. "I should be over this by now."

"I don't think that's how it works," Astoria says dryly.

"Apparently, we're dating," Draco says tiredly, ignoring Astoria's last comment. "I ruined my relationship before I knew it started."

"You don't _know_ that it's ruined," Astoria reminds him.

"I had a panic attack because he pointed a sparkly pink wand at me," Draco says. "I can't--I can't even tell him anything about me. I can't explain _why_ I panicked, and--" Draco rubs his face. "This is so stupid. I haven't even told Scorpius about him yet. I don't know why I thought--"

"Have you tried?" Astoria asks. 

"I don't know _how--"_

"You _aren't_ trying, Draco," Astoria says, disappointment dripping from her voice like blackened silver falling to the floor. "You need to let go."

"I KNOW THAT!" Draco shouts, pulling away from the painting. "You don't think I'm _aware_ of--"

"Have you cried for me?"

Draco stares at Astoria, aghast, and she smiles wistfully.

"Are you sure that you really know?" she asks. "Deep inside you, in the farthest corners of your heart, can you truly say that you believe everyone who tells you to accept the past?"

"What do tears have to do with this?" Draco asks.

"Do you even have to ask?" Astoria whispers.

Painted tears fall down her cheeks.


	2. We Hide the Damage When We're Scarred the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for religious homophobia in this chapter
> 
> Also, kissing. Should kissing be a trigger warning? My aro ace ass says so (jk I actually laughed the entire time writing that scene. Don't @ me)

**Benji: Are you okay?**

**Benji: Please text me. Sophie and I are really worried**

**Benji: Draco please**

.

Draco drowns himself in his work. 

The Ministry has been requesting him to write an article on the Cursed Hand of Kazeln for years. Draco kept refusing because the whole curse with _anyone who touches it turning into dust_ is so _boring._ It has been done a hundred times--really, the Ministry should just be able to figure it out.

But he needs something to distract himself from obsessing over Benji, especially since Draco can't bring himself to either answer or block Benji's texts.

So Draco writes a dull paper for a mediocre cursed object.

Draco writes an essay on the psychological effects of growing up in a Death Eater household. He writes a children's lesson for Hogwarts on the proper way to combat random hexes that only three people in the Wizarding World know how to cast, two of which who live in Russia and one who is dead.

Maybe Draco should write another book.

.

**Benji: My students all gave me apples which was really adorable but then they ruined it by fighting over whose apple I should eat first**

**Benji: Sophie just learned that Sprite exists. She's so mad that the drink doesn't have actual sprites in it**

**Benji: Anyway I just wanted to say that I hope you're having a good day**

.

"I can't answer him," Draco tells Astoria.

"Why not?" Astoria asks.

"It's been too long now," Draco says. "After two weeks, it would be odd if I finally answered back."

"Then doesn't that make it odd that he's still messaging you?" Astoria asks.

Draco wants to scream. He hates this--talking around in circles with Astoria, circling around from one topic to another with every thing that he says getting thrown back in his face.

"You know why this isn't working, don't you?" Astoria asks. "Because I'm not--"

"Don't," Draco chokes. "Please don't say it. I can't lose you, too--"

"You already have!" Astoria shouts.

Draco flinches back. Astoria _never_ shouts. She _knows_ how much Draco hates it.

"I'm not real," Astoria says. "I am _never going to be real,_ Draco. I'm just memories and magic and paint."

.

**Scorpius: when Anne Boleyn's handmaid got sweating sickness, King Henry yeeted himself outta there and made Anne deal with it by herself**

**Scorpius: and then Anne got it too but the king still didn't come back!!**

**Scorpius: sO IN CONCLUSION LOVE IS A LIE AND MARRIAGE IS A SHAM**

**Draco: Are you okay?**

**Scorpius: Albus bootlegged SIX the musical and then I started looking stuff up and nO I AM NOT OKAY**

**Scorpius: if literal queens can't have happy endings then what hope is there**

**Scorpius: ALSO! I AM EMO NOW**

**Scorpius: Albus made me listen to mcr and I like it???? It's REALLY SAD but so is life :(((((**

**Draco: You're scaring me...**

**Scorpius: all I'm sayin is life is short. Love fast love well etc and listen to SIX and mcr :)))**

**Draco: If you say so, son.**

**Scorpius: :DDDDDDDD**

**Draco: That...**

**Draco: That's not how smiles work, but okay.**

**Scorpius: ALSO YOU NEVER ANSWERED MY QUESTION ABOUT THE PET**

**Scorpius: THE RAT IS SUPER CUTE YOU WOULD LOVE HER**

**Draco: We're not adopting a rat.**

.

"Draco."

Draco starts, the Muggle book slipping from his hands. Benji stands in front of Draco at the bookstore, his face pale. Benji's eyes look far too big for his face when he isn't smiling.

Benji bends down and picks the book up. He offers it to Draco, and Draco accepts it wordlessly.

"The Magical Adventures of Taylor Finnegan?" Benji queries.

"I'm writing an article," Draco says stiffly. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to leave. "About magic and its representation in Mu--modern children's books."

"Fascinating," Benji says.

Draco swallows heavily and nods before turning to go.

"Wait!" Benji calls out. Draco hesitates, turning back around slightly. "Did--did I offend you or something?"

Draco's eyes widen.

"I'm sorry?"

"You left," Benji says. "And didn't answer any of my messages, and it's _fine_ if you don't want to see me anymore, but--"

Draco cuts Benji off, saying, "You did nothing. I just assumed that it would be better if we . . . stopped."

"Why?" Benji asks.

Draco feels a cold sense of despair seep into his bones. People keep asking him that same question, and Draco never knows how to answer it. He has no idea how to explain _anything_ that isn't an academic problem.

Benji takes a few hesitant steps forward.

“You have unresolved issues, don’t you?” Benji asks. 

If Draco listens carefully, he can hear the gaps between their breaths. They’re both ragged, running on empty, collapsing under the weight of their own air. 

“That’s okay,” says Benji. “I have issues, too.”

Draco closes his eyes. 

“Really,” he says flatly. 

“My parents," Benji starts to say before his voice breaks off. He speaks like he lacks enough air for each word. "My parents were bigots, you know? And that . . . screwed me up inside. For the longest time, I was a bigot, too."

Draco lifts his head and looks at Benji with his brow furrowed. 

“I hated it,” Benji says, his face pale. “The feelings, the urges, everything about my sexuality, so I just . . . pretended it wasn’t there.” He laughs, but it’s a humorless, dry chuckle that makes Draco’s shoulders tense. “I lied to everyone, including myself.”

“But you’re better now,” Draco snaps, frustration bleeding through his words. 

_And I’m not._

“I’m still scared,” Benji whispers. “Of this. Of how much I . . .” His breath hitches for a couple seconds before going back to normal. “How much I like you. I worry sometimes—“

“It was worse,” Draco says, and forcing these three words past his lips is like torture. “My parents. Me. I am so much worse than you could ever be, and once you realize that—“

“Could I be the judge of that?” Benji asks, his voice too high for comfort. “Draco, I—“

“You deserve better,” Draco says. He’s not pitying himself or trying to force Benji to argue otherwise. He is just stating facts. “I’m fucked up in ways that you could never understand, in ways that I can’t even _tell you—“_

“I _want_ to understand—“

“And I’m telling you that you can’t!” Draco snaps, glaring at Benji. The dim light streaming in from the window highlights the lines of Benji’s face, which only makes the whole experience even more excruciating. “I can’t—I can’t _talk_ about these things.”

“Why?” Benji asks softly. 

The listless expression in Astoria’s eyes in the days before she died; the way that Scorpius screamed when he learned about her death; the pallor of Potter’s face as Draco lay on the cold, wet bathroom floor, unable to tell where his blood ended and the water began; Draco falling from his chair as Nagini ate Charity Burbage whole; the hurt flashing in Granger’s eyes every time Draco called her _Mudblood;_ Dumbledore falling from the tower, his eyes never leaving Draco’s; _his father his father his father—_

“You will never want to look at me again,” Draco says steadily. 

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” hisses Draco. “That’s beside the point—“

“Then I’m not going to go away,” Benji says. “No matter how long it takes, as long as you still want this . . .” 

Benji moves closer, his eyes meeting Draco’s. Without thinking, Draco rests his forehead against Benji’s, and Benji’s hand rises up to cup the nape of Draco’s neck. 

Draco freezes, his heart rate spiking. He lurches away, stumbling slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Benji says instantly. 

Draco’s own voice echoes in his ears: _I’m sorry, please, Father, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorry—_

“Why would you want to put up with this?” Draco asks, his mouth dry. 

Pain flickers across Benji’s face, but he smiles at Draco, this tired curve to his mouth that somehow meets his eyes. 

“Some people,” Benji says, “are worth waiting for.”

.

"He wants me to make a list," Draco tells Astoria. "Of . . . of things I'm not comfortable with."

"That's good," Astoria says, her eyes brightening.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Draco says, hating the desperate note in his voice.

"I doubt he does, either," Astoria says serenely.

Oh, _that_ makes Draco feel _so_ much better.

.

**1\. The back of the neck**

Draco slips beside Benji in the Muggle death trap known as a car.

Benji hesitates before touching Draco, his eyes asking, _Is this okay?_

Draco doesn't know whether his answer is yes or no. Benji told Draco that if he wasn't sure, then the answer was probably _no._ So Draco shakes his head slightly, and Benji offers him a tiny, lopsided grin.

"Where are we headed today?" Draco asks.

"Ever been to the IMAX?" Benji asks.

"Isn't that just a big cinema?"

Draco has to laugh at the look Benji gives him. It's one of scandalized horror.

"Draco Malfoy," Benji says solemnly, "you have not yet _lived_ if you think going to the IMAX is the same as going to the movies."

Benji starts driving, and all Draco can think is how similar he is to Blaise. Merlin, Pansy and Blaise would _love_ Benji.

Draco quickly shuts down that train of thought. There's no way he's introducing Pansy and Blaise to Benji. Any sappy words about waiting for Draco would fly out of Benji's mind.

Also, Pansy and Blaise don't know how to shut up, so the Statute of Secrecy would be broken in less than a day.

.

**17\. Snakes**

The next week, at the restaurant, Benji is so close to Draco. If Draco shifted any closer, he would practically be sitting in Benji's lap.

He can touch Benji. Benji has made it abundantly clear that he would be happy with rolling around with Draco in a field of daisies, so Draco knows that it would be fine.

Except. Draco has no idea how to initiate it. He and Astoria never had this problem. She would just . . . touch him. And Draco would touch back. It was easy, except now that she is dead--

Draco acts on impulse and takes Benji's hand in his, his thumb gently stroking the side of Benji's palm. Benji looks over, surprise in his eyes, and Draco immediately lets go.

Draco's face feels hot, and he waits with tense shoulders for Benji to take the hand that Draco pulled away. Instead, Benji just leaves his hand within grabbing distance, a tiny smile stealing across his face.

Damn it all. Now a part of Draco wants to tackle Benji to the floor.

.

**9\. Shouting**

"I think I met someone," Draco says one night at the pub.

"No," Pansy gasps. "I was _wondering_ why you looked less like a depressed, drowned rat recently."

"Brilliant, mate," Blaise says, slapping Draco on the back.

"So who is this mysterious man?" Pansy asks. "He must have the patience of a _saint_ to get on with y--"

"Do we know him?" Blaise interrupts brightly, talking over Pansy.

"I highly doubt it," Draco says stiffly, playing with his empty glass.

Blaise and Pansy wait for him to elaborate, then start booing when Draco doesn't say anything.

"I'm not telling you," Draco says, dodging the crumpled napkin Blaise tosses at him. Pansy's napkin smacks him in the cheek.

They boo even more loudly.

"What are you _doing?"_ the bartender demands.

"DRACO MALFOY FOUND A MAN!" Blaise shouts.

Draco buries his face into his hands. He wants to die. He's going to kill himself. First, he's going to murder Blaise, though, and then Pansy for laughing at him and then the rest of the pub for cheering.

"Shut _up,"_ Draco groans. "I haven't even told Scorpius yet--"

"HE HAS A MAN AND HE HASN'T EVEN TOLD HIS SON!" Pansy crows.

The pub erupts, and the bartender brings over another round of beers.

"On the house," he says with a wink.

If this is in the papers tomorrow, Draco is going to murder the whole wizarding world.

.

**Scorpius: omgggggggg dad you found a boyfriend??????**

**Scorpius: kinda sad you didn't tell me right away :(**

**Scorpius: BUT YAYYYYYY!!!!!! CAN ALBUS AND I BE GROOMSMEN**

.

Groomsmen. _Groomsmen._ It has been barely over two months, and Scorpius thinks Draco is going to get _married?_

It's official. Draco is going to have to become a murderer.

.

**23\. Fire**

"My students are like those kids in Lord of the Flies," Benji says to Draco one night as they sit on two ends of the couch. "I swear, if I left them unattended for a few minutes too many, they would start hunting each other down with pointy sticks like the savages they are."

"But cute savages," Draco says.

 _"Extremely_ cute savages," Benji says with a soft chuckle.

He offers Draco an impish smile, which makes Draco feel tight inside. It's not necessarily a _bad_ tightness, per se, but Draco would prefer that he didn't feel it at all. 

Also, there's this gap between Draco and Benji, which Draco has no idea how he's supposed to close or even if he should close it at all. Ever since he had Draco make the list, Benji has been obnoxiously careful. He doesn't treat Draco like glass, but he's clearly willing to let Draco make the first move.

Draco would ordinarily appreciate that, except _he doesn't know how to make the first move._

So he stares at Benji, hoping that Benji will just telepathically _know_ to do it for Draco. Benji stares back but doesn't move an inch. Draco notes that, in this lighting, Benji's eyes look almost green.

"Did you know that your eyes change color?" Draco asks.

"They're just hazel," says Benji.

"No, they . . ." Draco doesn't know how to explain it. Benji's eyes are hazel, yes, but that barely begins to describe how they look. They shift from green to brown to amber, sometimes even to blue.

"They remind me of the fairytale," Draco says. "About the woman's eyes in the sky."

"I've never heard of that," Benji says.

"Must be a m--" Draco bites the rest of the sentence off before he says _magical._ "Malfoy thing," he says.

"Do you come from a family of sterytellers?" Benji asks.

Draco blinks rapidly, shoving any thoughts of his father out of his mind. He thinks of his mother and her long, silvery hair swaying above his face in bed. He thinks of Astoria, holding Scorpius close to her chest and whispering fairy tales into his skin. He thinks of his father _(lies lies lies)._

"I suppose so," Draco says.

Benji's nose crinkles as he smiles. Draco stares Benji down even more.

 _Move,_ he silently chants. _Move, move, move, move._

"So how does this Malfoy tale go?" asks Benji.

.

**6\. Screams**

Sophie has decided that Draco is more hers than Benji's, and Benji does not seem to have any complaints.

Her fingers pull at Draco's hair, twisting it, knotting it, braiding it into a mess.

"If you're an elf king, then how come your hair doesn't feel like silk?" Sophie asks.

 _"Sophie,"_ Benji says from his spot on the couch.

"What?" Sophie demands. "It keeps catching on my fingers."

"Maybe that's because your _fingers_ don't feel like silk," Draco says, kissing Sophie's hand.

"Mummy and I use lo-shun," Sophie says with superiority.

Draco laughs, falling backwards onto the floor. Sophie squeaks with indignation as his messy braid splays across the ground.

"You're s'posed to let me tie it first," she scolds.

Benji is looking at the clock where seven o'clock chimes.

"Bedtime, princess," Benji says.

"But I haven't finished his hair," Sophie wails.

"I'll finish it for you," Benji says, scooping her up. "Princesses need their beauty sleep."

Sophie starts to protest and whine, but Benji swans off with his fluff of bright pink pyjamas and bright blonde hair, impervious to her cries.

Draco closes his eyes, still sprawled out on the floor, waiting for Benji's return. The first thing he hears are Benji's footsteps, tapping down from the hall. He walks on the balls of his feet and the tips of his toes, despite the fact that Sophie is still awake.

Benji settles next to Draco on the floor.

"You going to stay there forever?" Benji asks, a note of amusement in his voice.

"It's more comfortable than you would think," Draco says.

"Come up to the couch with me," Benji says. "Your old man body will thank me later."

Draco opens his eyes and glares at Benji.

"I am a mere _five years_ older than you," Draco says.

Benji laughs and offers his hand. "Tell you what, love, when I'm over forty, you can call me old, too."

Draco accepts Benji's hand, and Benji pulls him up. Draco teeters slightly, his feet unsure where to go, and Benji's hand catches him in the back.

"Am I?" Draco asks, once his balance has returned.

Benji's grip is loose enough for Draco to pull away, but Benji does not let go.

"Are you what?" he asks.

"Your love." 

Benji snorts, gently flicking Draco's hair.

"After three months of putting up with me, I would certainly hope so," Benji says.

Draco has no idea how to respond to that because since when is it _Draco_ putting up with _Benji?_

Benji touches Draco's hair again softly, an odd expression stealing across his features.

"May I?" Benji asks.

Draco stares at him for a few beats before slowly nodding his head. Benji and Draco sit on the couch, their legs centimeters away. 

Benji starts to ask, "Could you--"

Steeling himself, Draco brings his feet up onto the couch and rests his head on Benji's lap. Benji sucks in a deep breath, and Draco feels his face begin to flush. He can feel the warmth of Benji's body through his jeans, which scratch against Draco's cheek. There's a pounding in Draco's ears, but he can't tell if it is his own heartbeat or Benji's pulse thrumming against Draco's skin.

Benji's fingers begin to ghost through Draco's hair. Draco inhales shakily. They are almost the exact same motions as what Sophie was doing a few minutes earlier, but they feel so _different_ when it's Benji's fingertips brushing against Draco's scalp and combing through his hair.

"Please tell me," Benji whispers, "if I start to make you feel uncomfortable."

Draco doubts he would be able to say _anything,_ positive or negative.

Benji pulls Draco's hair out from its messy braid and combs through the knots and snarls of Sophie's making. Draco lies as still as possible, terrified that the smallest movement or noise on his part will scare Benji away.

Benji tuts as his fingers make their way down to the ends of Draco's hair.

"The split ends on these," he breathes.

A tight feeling begins to suffocate Draco's chest, trapping his breath inside his own body.

"After Astoria died," Draco starts to say before choking on his own words. Benji's hands slow but continue running through Draco's hair. "After Astoria died," Draco whispers, "I just . . . stopped."

Benji stays quiet, but Draco can hear his ragged breathes--can feel the way Benji's body tenses under Draco's body.

Benji plants a kiss on the corner of Draco's mouth, then returns to Draco's hair, beginning a braid at the tip of Draco's hairline.

Draco feels slightly dizzy. Does he need water? He feels like he needs water.

Benji's fingers scrape slightly against Draco's skull, and Draco practically melts at Benji's touch. There's something wrong with Draco. He shouldn't be reacting like this when Benji is barely _doing_ anything. Merlin, how is Draco going to react when he and Benji have sex?

Draco resists the urge to start screaming. Why, _for the love of Salazar,_ was that the first thing that popped into Draco's head? He should Obliviate himself. He should just throw himself off the first cliff he can find.

Benji finishes the braid, tying it up at the end.

"There you go, king of the elves," Benji says with a small laugh. "Now your hair fits your role."

Draco sits up, still lightheaded, and stares at Benji. Benji swallows hard, and Draco watches the lines of his throat melt and shift. 

"Your eyes are very dilated right now," Draco says distantly.

"Yours, too," Benji says, his voice strangled.

"Typically," Draco says, "pupil dilation signifies fear."

"I don't think that's what this signifies," Benji whispers.

Acting on impulse, Draco kisses Benji, long enough for Benji to freeze but quick enough for Benji not to be able to kiss back. Draco pulls away, his face hot.

"I, um," Draco says, stumbling off of the couch. "I have to go do . . . author things now."

He grabs his coat and runs out of the house, Apparating away as soon as he's in a place where no one can see.

.

**Benji: So that was nice**

**Benji: That's agreed, right**

**Benji: We both thought it was nice**

**Benji: I'm gonna shut up now**

.

Draco stares at his reflection, at the neatly sectioned French braid that manages to hide the trainwreck that is his hair.

He's a 42-year-old widower. He should not be this confused.

(Why is he so confused?)

.

**Draco: It was very nice.**

.

**3\. Stomach**

"You seem happier," Astoria remarks one Saturday evening.

Draco finishes buttoning up his shirt.

"I _feel_ happier," Draco says, selecting a silver tie.

He knots the tie neatly, then slips his suit jacket on. Before he even starts to button it, Astoria asks gently, "Have you cried for me?"

Draco's hands freeze.

"I'm not going to answer that," Draco says, once the air has returned to his lungs.

"You never do," Astoria says quietly. Draco finishes the last button and turns to leave. "It won't work, Draco. You can't run away from this forever."

His eyes stinging, Draco Apparates to London.

.

Draco can barely focus on anything Benji is saying the whole night. It's something about his students, something about Sophie, and something about birds, but all Draco can focus on is Astoria's voice telling him, _You can't run away from this forever._

Draco doesn't want to think about it (Astoria's body, cold and pale on her bed; Astoria lying out in her coffin, eyes closed as if asleep; Astoria getting lowered into the ground). He wants to think about _anything else._

So in the middle of walking over to the street to hail a cab, Draco grabs Benji by his lapels and kisses him. A dim part of Draco's brain is screaming at him to stop because _Astoria_ and also Benji's hands are all stiff at his side, which surely means that Benji is uncomfortable with this whole situation--

Benji's hand rakes through Draco's hair, the other pressing up against the small of Draco's back. Coherent thought begins to fade away, and suddenly all Draco knows is the pressure of Benji's lips against his. When Benji kisses back _,_ it's different from all the times Draco kissed Astoria. It's teeth and tongue and Benji's hands roving up and down. It's harsh and bruising yet tender all at once, and Draco can't bring himself to care. Draco loses himself in the way it feels, the way it quiets the screaming in his head. He can barely get enough air but does not pull away.

"Your place," Benji gasps between kisses. "Your place _now."_

Draco's brain turns back on, and he freezes, pulling away.

What was he _thinking?_

There are people. Watching. Staring. Draco's mouth isn't working, and he can't figure out how to breathe normally.

"We can't go to mine," Draco says. "I--I live in Wiltshire."

Benji stares blankly.

"Sophie is asleep," he says. "The babysitter--"

"I live in Wiltshire," Draco repeats, aware that he's barely making any sense.

The words are all blurring together, and he's still clutching Benji's jacket. Even after Draco lets go, Benji's hand remain on Draco's back.

Oh, yes, he'll bring Benji back to his evil mansion with the talking portraits and random bursts of magic. That's a _great_ idea! Draco has _no clue_ why he didn't think of that before.

"Hotel," Draco says, his tongue still struggling to work right. "I'll pay."

A hazy part of Draco half-expects Benji to protest. Instead, Benji links hands with Draco and hails a cab.

.

Draco isn't sure what he expected. There was this uncomfortable moment when Benji just _stared_ at all Draco's scars (Draco had never felt more relieved that he managed to get rid of the Dark Mark), but it didn't take long for Benji to focus on other things. It was so painfully awkward and messy, and Draco had no idea where to put his hands or his mouth or really any part of his body. Benji didn't seem to mind, though, judging by his flush that stained his cheeks.

Now, though, Draco just feels tired. Benji has his face buried in Draco's neck, and the only sound filling the room are their harsh breaths.

"First time with a man, huh," Benji says with an odd breathless laugh.

Draco considers the ways this conversation could go.

_Draco: Actually, I've never engaged in copulation with **anyone**._

_Benji: I'm sorry, what? How did Scorpius happen then?_

_Draco: Artificial insemination._

"Don't get a big head," Draco says loftily, lazily clasping the back of Benji's neck. "You just happened to be the first attractive man I chose to deign with my affection."

Benji looks up, and _Merlin,_ the grin breaking out across his face might as well be the sun.

"And you say you don't want me to get a big head," he says.

.

The next day, Benji asks Draco if he wants to stop by and say hi to Sophie. Since Draco rather rudely deprived her of her father's presence, he agrees.

Sophie comes barrelling down the stairs and throws herself into Draco's arms.

"What, no hug for me?" Benji asks with mock offense.

"I hug you _lots,_ Daddy," Sophie says gravely. "I hafta hug Draco _first_ before he leaves."

Benji just rolls his eyes and pecks Sophie's cheek, ruffling Sophie's hair, much to her distaste.

"Taylie told me that her mummy is getting married," Sophie announces as Draco carries her bridal style into the living room.

"Fascinating," Draco says.

"Are you and Daddy gonna get married?" Sophie asks. "Taylie says that she's gonna wear a princess dress for her mummy's wedding. _I_ wanna wear a princess dress, too!"

Draco is dimly aware of Benji choking next to him, but he can't get enough air himself to feel any superiority.

"I think it's a little soon for that, love," Benji gasps, once he has begun breathing like a normal human again.

"Mummy said that you two should get married," Sophie says with a pout. "Mummy _never_ lies."

"Right you are," Benji says with a laugh, hoisting Sophie from Draco's arms. "I suppose we have no other choice now. You're stuck with me, Draco Malfoy."

Sophie cheers loudly, and Draco momentarily forgets how to speak.

.

**Draco: How is class?**

**Scorpius: I'M DYINGGGGGGGGGGGG**

**Scorpius: PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL ASSIGNED US TO WRITE A FIVE PAGE ESSAY**

**Scorpius: BUT I WROTE TEN PAGES AND NOW I NEED TO CUT IT DOWN**

**Draco: Just rip the last five pages off and attach your references at the end.**

**Scorpius: ...**

**Scorpius: who are you and what did you do to my dad**

.

"So how's Scorpius?" Benji asks one day out of the blue.

Draco looks up from his his book. Benji sits next to him on the couch, his arm draped loosely around Draco's shoulder.

"He's well," Draco says. "He's excited for Christmas, despite it being a month away."

Benji has an odd, pinched cast to his face. Draco feels an unexpected thread of anxiety tighten around him.

"Does he," Benji starts to say, but his voice falls flat. Draco watches Benji swallow, as Benji's fingers tap out an uneven rhythm on his leg. "Does he know about . . . us?"

Draco straightens, and Benji's hand falls away

"He's aware that I'm in a relationship," Draco says.

"Yes, but--" Benji looks as if he is struggling to find the right words. "Does he know about _me?"_

Draco feels his throat tighten. He honestly has no idea how to do any of the seemingly normal things that other people find so easy. He doesn't know how to talk to Scorpius about . . . this. About Benji. Draco can barely talk about Astoria with Scorpius, and Astoria--

"He's returning home for Christmas break," Draco says, the words heavy on his tongue. "I'll introduce you."

Benji's face tightens, but he doesn't say anything. Draco can't decipher _any_ of the nonverbal signals Benji sends his way. Draco wants to ask Benji what he is thinking but can't figure out a way to phrase it.

.

**Benji: My parents want to meet you**

**Benji: You can say no**

**Draco: Do you want me to meet them?**

**Benji: No**

**Benji: Idk**

**Benji: Maybe :(**

**Benji: I told you they were bigots right? They're doing better I guess. I've been talking to them lately and I mentioned you and**

**Benji: They want to meet you**

**Benji: Dinner. Conversation. Interrogation. The whole shebang**

**.**

Draco sets his phone down and inhales shakily, rubbing his face.

He doesn't know _what_ to do. Draco has had enough of closemindedness, having been a proponent of racism for the majority of his childhood and adolescence. He doesn't know if he can handle an entire _dinner_ with people that Benji declared responsible for his past internalized homophobia.

People grow and change, though--Draco certainly did.

Benji said they are doing better (he guessed).

.

**Draco: Again. Do you want me to meet them?**

**Benji: They think I'm making you up**

**Draco: In that case, I would be delighted to meet your parents**

**.**

"Moving fast, are we?" Pansy observes, lounging in the corner of her bedroom. "When are you going to introduce him to _your_ parents?"

"As Azkaban is not accepting visitors at the moment, probably never," Draco says, slipping on a pale blue shirt. It makes him look even more washed out than usual.

Draco is currently trying on shirts that Pansy has laid out for him. According to her, all his clothes, whether wizarding or Muggle, make him look like an evil, gay mastermind.

_"But I **am** gay," Draco said blankly._

_"They make you look **too** gay, Draco," Pansy said, not unkindly. "That's all well and good when you're going on dates, but for meeting your boyfriend's homophobic parents? **Darling.** "_

_"Why do you have a bunch of random men's shirts?" Draco asked._

_Pansy rolled her eyes. "I was experimenting," she said with a haughty sniff. "For whatever reason, my victims never returned."_

_"Probably because you call them victims."_

"I'm surprised your criminal past hasn't turned him off," Pansy says, examining her nails. "How does he feel about your jailbird parents?"

Draco avoids her eyes as he tries on a dark green shirt.

"We haven't exactly talked about it," he says stiffly. "He doesn't know."

"Oh, for the love of Salazar," Pansy says with a roll of her eyes. "How can you have not talked about it? It's all in the papers. _Everyone_ knows--"

Draco smooths down the collar.

"Oh, my," Pansy says, aghast. "Have you been using Polyjuice?"

 _"What?"_ Draco demands, whirling around to glare at her.

"Well, why else wouldn't he--"

Pansy pales with horror, and Draco feels dread begin to climb its way up his throat. 

"You--you traitor," Pansy says faintly. "He's _American,_ isn't he? How else wouldn't he know about you?"

Draco stares at Pansy blankly. She leans forward in her seat, her eyes narrowed. Of all the idiotic theories to propose--

Draco considers being the bigger person and telling Pansy the truth.

"Yes," Draco says flatly. He puts his coat on, ignoring Pansy's indignant sputtering. "I think this shirt will do nicely."

"You might as well just wear the American flag while you're at it!" Pansy shouts as Draco walks out the door.

.

**Draco: By the way, if a strange, goth lesbian named Pansy asks, you're American.**

**Benji: ummmmm**

**Benji: Why?**

**Draco: I panicked. She asked if you were, and I didn't know what to say, so I just agreed.**

**Benji: aahdksahdajhdn 😂🤣**

**Draco: I don't understand.**

**Benji: It's a keyboard smash**

**Draco: How do you do it?**

**Benji: Just hit whatever**

**Draco: 7**

.

When Draco gets to the restaurant, Benji is already sitting with his parents. The back of his shoulders look tense, and Draco can see Benji's foot tapping restlessly on the floor.

When Draco slides into his seat next to Benji, a look of relief floods Benji's face before vanishing from sight.

"This is Draco," Benji says. He nods to his father, a balding man with a soft face. "My dad, Arthur." He gestures to his mother. "And this is my mum, Ruth."

"Draco," Arthur says, offering his hand. Draco shakes it, hiding a wince over Arthur's crushing grip. 

"We've heard a lot about you," Ruth says sweetly, shaking Draco's hand limply.

Draco feels his mind go blank. How is he supposed to respond to that? The proper response would probably be _as have I,_ but Draco _hasn't._ The only time Benji talks about his parents is when he's making jokes about Conservative parents.

"All good things," Benji says with a wink.

"You must have to censor a lot," Draco says blandly.

There's an awkward silence. Arthur looks at Draco with a raised eyebrow, and Ruth looks distinctly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Benji looks to be holding back laughter.

"Did you order already?" Draco asks, desperate for something to say.

"We were waiting for you," Benji says with a shrug. "I probably could have guessed, but I figured I better play it safe."

"Ah," Draco says, opening the menu. It's a relief, in a way, that the menu blocks him from Arthur and Ruth's gaze. He rereads the same section over and over without comprehending any of it.

"So Draco!" Ruth says brightly. "Benji tells us that you're an author. What do you write about?"

"Witchcraft," Draco says flatly.

The waitress appears, and Draco rattles off his order. He turns back to see Ruth and Arthur staring at him.

"Witchcraft," Ruth repeats faintly.

Arthur asks hesitantly, _"Fictional_ witchcraft?"

Draco wants to strangle himself. He wants to cut his tongue out. He should leave. Why isn't he leaving? _Why is he still talking?_

"Nonfiction," Draco says. "Typically scientific articles, although I did write an autobiography."

There's a vague choking noise from Benji's direction.

"An _autobiography,"_ Ruth echoes, horror coloring her face.

"I was in a cult," Draco says, taking a sip of water.

"Was," Benji cuts in anxiously. "He's not anymore."

Draco contemplates the psychologically negative effects his suicide would have on Benji and Scorpius.

"So," Draco says, "what do you two do for a living?"

.

About their first glasses of wine, everyone except Draco starts to become more relaxed. Draco can't help marvelling the change that has come over Benji. Benji is usually pretty easy-going as it is, but now he's practically _liquid._

"Sophie seems to be under the impression that Draco is the king of the elves," Benji drawls.

"Well, she thinks _you're_ the evil fairy overlord," Draco says dryly.

Benji laughs, and the light hits the slant of his throat as he throws his head back. "She's not the only one. My students think I'm Satan at times."

Ruth's lips tighten ever-so-slightly, and Draco feels himself stiffen.

"Even the Christian ones?" Arthur asks, and it's a joke. Even _Draco_ can tell it's a joke, but Benji doesn't seem to notice.

 _"God,_ the Christian ones are even worse," Benji says. "Their parents are so in my face."

Ruth drops her fork.

Benji seems to realize that he said something wrong right away, judging by the way his face twists into a grimace. Draco doesn't know how to respond to any of this--it's so odd to see Benji making the mistakes Draco usually does when it comes to not knowing when to shut up.

"I didn't mean it like that," Benji says.

"What did you want it to mean, then?" Arthur asks, visibly annoyed.

Benji inhales shakily, pinching the bridge of his nose. Draco notices the slight tremor in Benji's left hand where it lies on top of his thigh.

"Just that, demographic-wise, Christian parents tend to be . . . helicopters," Benji says.

"Oh, so we were helicopter parents?" Arthur demands, his knuckles white as he clenches his fork. 

"That's not what I--"

"We gave you _plenty_ of space--"

Benji laughs sharply.

"Wow, I think your dictionary needs updating, Dad," Benji says. "Either that or I have no clue what _space_ means--"

"You always blow things up out of proportion--"

 _"You_ made me see a therapist," Benji says in a low, hard voice, all liquid calm vanishing from his physique.

"You said you wanted to kill yourself," Arthur snaps. "What were we supposed to do, just ignore that?"

Draco feels as if he has been slapped. For a brief moment, he makes eye contact with Ruth across the table. She looks as if she is shriveling up inside.

Helpless.

"Yeah, because I _thought I was going to go to Hell,"_ Benji snarls.

"Nice weather we've been having," Ruth says brightly, trying to overtalk Benji and Arthur.

"You should have told us," Arthur says.

"Why?" Benji demands, leaning forward. "So you could have confirmed it? So you could have made things worse?"

"Could we talk about something else?" Ruth asks desperately.

"We would have helped you," Arthur says steadily.

"How?" Benji asks with a harsh laugh. "By sending me to conversion therapy?"

"Benji, Arthur, _please--"_

"You thought it was a _disease,"_ Benji spits out. "You think I didn't hear the things you said, the disgust in your eyes when I told you--"

"You had a perfectly good marriage with Nancy," Arthur says. "You loved each her."

"I still do," Benji says, and Draco can hear tears in his voice. "That's not--that's not the _point."_

"You should have worked it out," Arthur says. "Gone to counseling--"

"It was not a little couple's spat to be fixed by a marriage counselor," Benji snaps. "Do you _hear_ yourself? I felt like I was trapped. You think she would have _wanted_ that, to be married to a lie?"

"You're _living_ a lie--"

The longer this conversation continues, the more Ruth looks the way Draco feels--as if death were a welcome gift both are praying to receive.

"I am _thirty-seven!_ This isn't some emo teenage phase that will wear off the second I meet 'the right girl'--there _is no right girl."_

"It's a choice," Arthur says coldly. "And you're choosing wrong."

Benji just stares at Arthur, his frame trembling. He looks so much smaller than usual, and his eyes are swirling with fury and hurt and resignation.

"Fuck you," Benji whispers, his voice breaking.

He stumbles out of his chair, his hands scrambling to grab his coat. Draco watches Benji pull his coat on and feels as if he is trapped in his chair, all words stolen from his mind.

Ruth pleads, "Benji, wait--"

"I can't," Benji says, a panicked high note to his words. "I can't do this; I can't sit through this--"

"Benjamin," Arthur starts to say.

Benji just looks at Arthur with this hopelessly lost look in his eyes.

"You," Benji says in a strangled voice, "are the reason I tried to kill myself."

He storms out of the restaurant and doesn't look back. While Ruth looks as if she is about to burst into tears, Arthur looks like Benji punched him in the face.

.

Draco finds Benji standing outside his car, trying to fit his key into the lock and cursing repeatedly.

Draco hesitantly reaches for Benji, then draws him into a hug. Benji buries his face in Draco's chest.

"I can't unlock my car," Benji chokes out.

Draco swallows and brings his hand up to rest on Benji's hair.

"I don't think you should be driving right now," Draco says quietly.

"I need--I need to go--I need to go before they come out here and _see me--"_

"I'll call us a cab," Draco says.

"But my car--"

"I'll pay if it gets towed," Draco says.

"What if someone steals it?" Benji asks.

It's odd, Draco reflects, the things one worries about when something awful happens. He can still remember his mother's blank, unblinking stare when the jury declared her and Lucius guilty.

_"But who will feed the peacocks?" she asked._

"I'll buy you a new one," Draco says.

.

Draco expects Benji to rant the entire way back to his house, but instead Benji just stays hunched over, staring at nothing and everything at the same time, his fingers digging into his thighs. When they arrive back home, Benji yanks the door open and all but runs to the house.

"Rough night?" the cabbie asks as Draco pays.

"Isn't that every night?" Draco asks shortly.

"Don't worry, mate," the cabbie says condescendingly. "I've been there. Just give him some chocolate and he'll come around. I mean, that doesn't work on my wife, but it always works on _me._ Men are simple like that. All he needs is food, and he'll forgive you."

Draco has no clue how to respond to this, so he just leaves an abnormally large tip and leaves.

.

Draco finds Benji in his bedroom. The door is closed, but Draco can hear his strangled, uneven breaths through the thin walls.

Draco hesitates before knocking softly.

"Can I come in?" Draco asks.

Benji doesn't respond for a while. Draco stands, rooted in place, unsure of what to do.

The door swings open, revealing Benji's flushed face. He's crying. Oh, Merlin, what is Draco supposed to do now? Is he supposed to react? Is he supposed to say something?

"I'm an idiot," Benji says, his voice shaky.

Draco should hug Benji again, like earlier. But before, it was so easy and reactionary, and now Draco just doesn't know what to do with his arms.

"Are there things that are just--unforgivable?" Benji asks.

Draco feels cold, weightless, as if he is drifting away into space.

"I don't know," he says distantly.

"Because I am _trying,"_ Benji says, this shaky, pleading note to his voice, as if Draco is the one that needs convincing. Anyone with _eyes_ could see that Benji cares. "I want--I want Sophie to have grandparents, you know? I want--"

Benji rubs his face and groans.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know why I can't just--I know I don't make sense. I know--"

His breath is flimsy and broken, just like his words. Draco reaches out slowly, carefully, as if the smallest movement will startle Benji away.

Benji's forehead drops against Draco's collarbone, and Draco inhales sharply.

"I don't know," Draco says quietly, "if some things are unforgivable. All I know is--" His mind scrambles to find the right words, to connect the disjointed phrases floating around in his head. "Forgiveness is not a mandatory right. It's a gift and sometimes--" _His father staring him down, his mother raising pleading eyes--_ "Sometimes it's in your best interest to choose not to give it."

"Does that make me a bad person?" Benji asks, his voice muffled by Draco's shirt.

"I think we're all bad people, in the end," Draco says. "Some of us are just . . . less bad people."

Benji snorts.

"Only you could make something like that sound romantic," he mumbles.

.

Draco wakes up in the morning to cold sheets. For a moment, he contemplates staying in Benji's bed for the rest of the day, but then he thinks of the pile of unfinished research on his desk. Grimacing, Draco forces himself to get out of bed.

Benji is baking cupcakes at eight o'clock in the morning.

"Have you eaten breakfast?" Draco asks.

"Does batter count?" Benji asks.

Draco eyes Benji's tense frame carefully. Apparently, rage-baking is real--Draco thought that Pansy was just yanking his chain all this time.

"Perhaps some eggs would be more nutritional," Draco says.

The counters are lined with finished cupcakes, and Benji is still making more.

The doorbell rings.

"It's Sunday," Benji says grumpily. "People should all be in bed right now, the heathens. Fifty pounds that it's Mrs. Black trying to force-feed me pie and inquire about my love life."

"I'll get it," Draco says.

Benji barely reacts when Draco leaves the kitchen, so focused on pouring the batter into the muffin tins as he is. Draco feels an odd sense of relief--Benji has a coping mechanism. Benji (for the most part) knows how to handle his issues.

Draco opens the door, only to find Harry Potter waiting outside.

"Draco," Harry says in his Official Saving the World Voice, "we need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to silversickles.tumblr.com for the keyboard smash joke
> 
> And thanks to dogweedanddeathcaps.tumblr.com for helping me through that incredibly awkward kissing scene. (I want to bleach my memories of writing it from my brain because I found it way too funny in a cringey way lmao)


	3. Mysteries Are Murder on the Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this turned into a mystery. I have zero patience for writing this kind of thing, though, so don't worry--this subplot is definitely not the focus of the story.

"Can I come in?" Harry asks.

Draco stares at Harry blankly. 

"How . . . did you find me?" Draco asks.

Harry looks slightly uncomfortable, but Draco can recognize the mulish look on his face. Harry isn't going anywhere.

"Is the famous Harry Potter stalking me?" Draco sneers. "What low levels our savior hath sunk--"

Harry rolls his eyes and shoves his way past Draco like the mannerless, power-numb Head he is. Draco briefly considers throwing Harry out the door, but he would shockingly prefer Benji's house to remain standing instead of hexed to the ground in flames.

At least Harry shuts the door behind him.

"You haven't been answering Owls or texts," Harry says, his discomfort overcome by irritation. "You think I _wanted_ to stalk you?"

"I think you're just obsessed with me, and the Ministry is accommodating your pathetic need to ruin my life," Draco says.

Draco isn't sure what comes over him every time he sees Harry. It's not like Draco has this issue with Hermione or Ron, but for whatever reason, speaking to Harry reduces Draco to a sneering fifth year at Hogwarts. The only source of comfort Draco has for his instinctual immaturity is that Harry has the exact same problem.

"Nice place," Harry says, poking a pathetic little lamp Draco has been begging Benji to throw out. "Did you sell the manor?" He sniffs the air, his brow furrowing. "Are you baking cupcakes?"

"Are you _done_ flirting with Mrs. Black?" Benji yells. "I need a taste-tester! This frosting won't eat itself."

Any other occasion, Draco would take pleasure from the dumbfounded expression on Harry's face. 

"Oh, blessed Dumbledore," Harry says faintly. "Pansy and Blaise weren't screwing with us. You really do have a boyfriend."

"It's been in the papers for months, you idiot," Draco says.

"A lot of things have been in the papers! Apparently, I'm hooking up with the ghost of Cedric Diggory in a hidden Ministry office, Hermione is Dumbledore's secret love child, and Ron is married to five alternate universe versions of Hermione all at once. How am I supposed to know what's real?"

Draco opens his mouth to respond when Benji comes in, bearing a bowl of frosting and a spatula. His disgruntled expression shifts to shock as he takes in the image of Harry Potter, the Child Hero Has Been.

Harry, much like every other witch and wizard, looks like a stereotypical Satanist.

"Hi!" Harry says brightly, offering his hand to shake. "I don't think we've met."

Benji stares at Harry's hand, then down at the bowl and spatula in his hands. Harry hesitates, then awkwardly stuffs his hand back in his pocket.

"You're American, right?" asks Harry. "You don't have much of an accent."

Benji's mouth opens and closes.

"I'm, uh, from the Midwest?" he says uncertainly. "We're good at . . . assimilating to new environments? Like the, uh, you know, those people on TV. I'm--I'm like Robert Downey, Jr., except less rich."

He absentmindedly shoves the bowl of frosting into Draco's arms and looks Harry up and down.

"Nice costume," Benji says.

 _"Costume,"_ Harry repeats.

Draco resists the urge to start screaming.

"Draco has one like it," Benji says. "He never wears it anymore."

"He's joking," Draco cuts in quickly. "Obviously." He starts to shove Harry toward the door. "Thanks for stalking me yet another time, but I--"

"Time Turners!" Harry blurts out.

Draco freezes.

 _"What_ did you just say?" he demands in a cold voice.

"We need your help," Harry says, and it's clear that he has to force each word out of his mouth. 

Draco closes his eyes briefly, sucking in a sharp breath. He hands the bowl back to Benji.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Draco says through clenched teeth.

.

Draco forgot to grab his coat before stepping outside which is obnoxious, but it's a blessing in a way. It makes it that much easier for him to direct the look of death Harry's way.

Before Draco can say anything, Harry blurts out, "There's another. We've been tracking it for weeks now, but we can't nail down a specific trail. They're using dark magic to conceal it, and we can't use our typical means of research to figure out what."

"By _typical,_ you mean _subpar,_ right?" Draco asks pleasantly.

"Yes, yes, we all suck," Harry says crossly. "You're so amazing and smart, et cetera, et cetera-- _please_ do give me a script for stoking your ego because I'm running out of words to say."

"Who are the _they_ in question?" Draco asks, ignoring the last comment.

"We're not sure, but we think it's a collector," Harry says. "They don't seem to be doing anything with it, but we have no way of knowing that. In addition, even if they don't plan on using it, if it falls into the wrong hands--"

"So you need me to clean up your mess," Draco finishes.

"We need your help breaking the concealment spells," Harry says.

"I'm busy," Draco says. He moves to go back inside, seeking the blessed warmth awaiting him. "You have people for that."

"Not like you," Harry says. Draco's hand freezes above the door handle. Draco turns his head slightly and sees Harry step closer, his eyes wide. "You're right. They're subpar. We've tried to figure it out, and we _can't._ You--" Harry's breath hitches, but he doesn't break eye contact. "You're the best. We _need_ you."

Draco mentally curses Harry and every other idiot in the Ministry. Why is it _always_ Draco's responsibility to fix things?

.

"Everything okay?" Benji asks when Draco comes back inside.

Draco notes with dismay that Benji has started yet another tray of cupcakes. On a completely unrelated note, he has a smear of bright blue frosting on his cheek.

"Oh, it's fine," Draco says. "He's my son's boyfriend's dad and really bad at parenting. It's been a while since he's had to track me down and beg for my assistance, but old habits die hard. Honestly, he should just turn guardianship of Albus to me at this point."

"You have an . . . interesting relationship with him," Benji says.

"Yeah, well," Draco says, the urge to wipe the frosting off rising, "he's a weird guy. Salazar, can you believe I'm going to be in-laws with him one day?"

Benji snorts, returning his attention to his cupcakes.

Draco could brush it off. Benji wouldn't mind. Based off their previous interactions, Benji would probably respond with all the other touchy-feely things Draco has no idea how to initiate.

"Is there something on my face?" Benji asks. "You're staring."

"Frosting," Draco says faintly.

"Oh." Benji grabs a towel and wipes it off. "Thanks."

.

**Benji: On the bright side my students love me now**

**Benji: they would die for me. They would kill for me. They would give me their last chicken nugget without a complaint.**

**Benji: On the downside their parents want to murder me 😔**

**Draco: You gave them the cupcakes, didn't you?**

**Benji: ☹️ I told them to take them home and share**

**Benji: in hindsight**

**Benji: I probably should have given them to their parents instead**

**Benji: Oh well. I am a god amongst three year olds 😇 🙏**

**Draco: 7**

**Benji: That's not**

**Benji: Never mind**

.

Draco sits at his desk, half-buried behind the stacks of dusty tomes. He starts to open one book, only for it to remain stubbornly closed. Draco lets out a soft curse when he taps the book with his wand.

.

**Draco: You should come over.**

**Harry: um**

**Harry: why**

**Draco: One of the books is sealed. It takes the blood of a Pureblood to unlock it.**

**Harry: So cut yourself**

**Harry: wait NO THAT'S NOT WHAt i MEANT I'M SORRY**

**Harry: I MEANT LIKE A NEEDLE OR SOMETHING???? DO NOT CUT YOURSELF**

**Draco: Mark the date--Harry Potter, Hero of the World of Magic, encouraging self-harm.**

**Harry: IM SORRY I DIDNT THINK IT THROUGH**

**Draco: Per usual.**

**Draco: But seriously. Come over. This book feeds off of the soul of the one who bleeds. The only way you can survive is by having another Pureblood present to sustain you with his magic.**

**Harry: "His"? Sexist**

**Draco: They're Malfoys. What do you expect?**

**Harry: But I'm not a Pureblood...**

**Draco: You're close enough.**

**Draco: Besides I want an excuse to stab you.**

**Harry: >:( You better get Albus one hell of a Christmas gift to make up for this**

**.**

"Sorry I'm late," Draco says breathlessly, dropping next to Benji in the cafe.

"No problem," Benji says. "I was almost late, too, because of the cute gremlins." He peers at Draco curiously, his eyebrow quirking up. "You okay? You look . . . weird."

Draco may feel slightly shaky because he just got done saving Harry Potter from getting sucked into a cursed tome for all of eternity, but he's fine. 

"I haven't eaten in a while," Draco says.

He realizes with a start that it's true. When was the last time Draco ate? Yesterday? A couple days ago?

"Professor brain?" Benji asks.

Draco laughs nervously.

"Something like that," Draco says.

He busies himself by fixing his napkin. Shocking, really, that the hole-in-a-wall cafe doesn't make swans from their flimsy paper napkins.

.

**Scorpius: Albus made another Transfiguration mistake**

**Scorpius: DAD 🥺**

**Scorpius: You have to let us adopt both of them... They're in love and we had a Slytherin wedding ceremony. 🥰 I got to officiate!**

**Draco: Why can't Albus adopt them?**

**Scorpius: 😭 James keeps threatening to kill them and we can't tell if he's joking**

**Scorpius: Also for some reason Albus's dad has an extreme aversion to rats, even cute ones with sparkly green bows! 💚🖤💚**

**[Scorpius has sent a photo.]**

**Draco: ...**

**Draco: Please, I beg of you, ask Professor McGonagall to help you turn them back.**

**Scorpius: But Dad that would DESTROY THEIR HAPPINESS**

.

Draco races through his house, snatching his robes as he goes.

"You're in a hurry," Astoria observes.

"I have a meeting," Draco says.

"With Benji?"

"Work," Draco huffs. He looks up to see Astoria looking at him with judgment. "What?"

"First of all, your buttons are uneven," Astoria says pleasantly. Draco muffles a curse and unbuttons his shirt. As he rebuttons, Astoria adds, "Second of all, you might want to double-check your calendar."

Draco pauses halfway down, mentally combing through past and future commitments.

"I don't know what you're referring to," Draco says.

"Sophie?" Astoria prompts. Upon Draco's blank stare, she sighs. "Her recital?"

Draco freezes.

"Oh, _fu--"_

.

**Draco: I'm really sorry, but I can't come.**

**Benji: What happened? Are you okay?**

**Draco: Family emergency**

**Benji: OMG IS SCORPIUS OK???? 😭**

**.**

****"What do I say?" Draco hisses.

"You're asking your deceased wife for advice on lying to your boyfriend?" Astoria asks dryly.

"Astoria, _please--"_

"Keep it vague," Astoria advises. "The more details you give, the easier it will be for him to tell you're lying."

.

**Draco: Scorpius is fine. There have been some issues at school, so I have to go meet with the teachers.**

**Draco: I'm sorry**

**Benji: ☹️ Hey, it's cool. I get it.**

**Benji: Sophie will be disappointed but we can just watch the recording together later**

.

In conclusion, Draco Malfoy is a terrible human being deserving of death.

.

"Draco!" Hermione says cheerfully, looking far too happy to discuss deadly dark magic than the Auror sitting next to her seems to find comfortable.

Luckily, Draco has no such qualms.

"I think I found it," Draco says, sitting in the chair across from Hermione's desk. He pulls out the book _Dark Magic at Your Leisure_ and places it on Hermione's desk, flipping it open to the right page. _"Praevenio_ is a fairly simple Dark spell with little side effects. However, based on the magical trail--"

"There is no magical trail," the Auror interrupts.

Draco feels his eyebrow twitch with annoyance.

"There's always a magical trail," Hermione says dismissively, barely sparing the Auror a glance. "Perhaps we cannot use it to track the actual location, but we can see the effects of the magic used to hide this information on the environment around it."

"As I was saying," Draco says coldly, "the trail indicates that the perpetrator is using blood magic to amplify the curse. So long as they live, the Time Turner will remain hidden."

"Any good news for me?" Hermione asks dryly.

"The spell is highly unstable once blood is involved," says Draco. "I give the perpetrator a month at most before the curse consumes their soul. Once that happens, you'll be able to track the perpestrator easily."

Hermione and the Auror look at Draco with varying degrees of frustration on their faces.

". . . which is bad," Draco adds hastily. "Clearly. Waiting a month for--"

"I was more worried about the _consuming their soul_ part," the Auror says dryly.

Draco would like nothing more than to punch the Auror in his smug, blocky, holier-than-thou face.

"Could we speed it up?" Hermione asks.

The Auror looks at her with judgment.

"Oh, don't give me that," Hermione says impatiently. "Time is of the essence. Besides, I wrote a paper on this spell. The pre-blood magic version allows us to track the caster once the spell has _begun_ to wear off, not necessarily once it has completely vanished." She turns to Draco. "Would the altered spell be similar?"

"Technically, we would be tracking the blood, but it should work the same. You'd have to be fast," Draco says hesitantly. "But you would be able to arrive in time to save them."

Hermione looks at the Auror. "I presume you have people who can work out a cure."

The Auror nods tightly, then rises from his seat and sweeps out of the room.

"We need you to figure out how to make the curse devolve faster," Hermione says, eyeing Draco carefully. "Will you be okay with that?"

For the first time since Harry dumped this thankless task into Draco's lap, Draco smiles. Although _smile_ might not be the best word for it--in reality, it's more like a simple baring of his teeth.

"It would be my pleasure," says Draco.

.

**Scorpius: Professor McGonagall found Ronny and Hermie and turned them back 😭**

**Draco: What?**

**Scorpius: The rats**

**Draco: You named the rats after Ron and Hermione**

**Scorpius: yEAH BECAUSE THEY WERE IN LOVE 😭😭😭**

**Scorpius: Anyway, Christmas is coming up soon... 🥺👉👈**

**Draco: I'm not giving you a rat.**

**Scorpius: what if you give ALBUS a rat?**

**Draco: Yes, that would endear me to his parents SO MUCH**

**Scorpius: What if you buy AUNT PANSY a rat so then we get all the joys but none of the responsibilities?**

.

"How's work?" Draco asks, Tuesday night at Benji's apartment.

Draco stands next to the prop fireplace, watching Benji lounge on the couch. Benji has an ease about him that Draco cannot help envying. It's like Benji never has to worry about how he is sitting or standing or whether his limbs are in the right spot and his chin at the correct angle. Benji is just . . . present.

Benji releases a half-sigh, half-snort.

"I really don't want to talk about work tonight," he says.

"That bad?" asks Draco.

"Let's just say that I have a sudden sympathy for my darling mother," Benji jokes. "Pitiful children get on my last nerves."

"Maybe you shouldn't have chosen to teach nursery," Draco says.

"Oh, I wasn't talking about my gremlins," Benji says. "The sad thing is that they'll be more mature than their parents could ever aspire to be."

"Children tend to be vastly better than their parents," Draco says.

"True," Benji says, his eyes twinkling, "but I know a few parents who break the mold."

"You'll have to introduce me," Draco says. "They can give me tips."

Benji says softly, "I don't think you need help in that department."

Draco stares at Benji, the way he tilts his head, and the tiny smile pushing at the corners of his lips. All of a sudden, Draco feels rooted to the spot. Benji's fond of saying that Draco doesn't need to ask. But if Draco can barely open his mouth, how is he supposed to move? 

Maybe Benji sees something in Draco's face because he stands up from the couch and makes his way across the room. He halts a few centimeters away from Draco, his hand hovering in the gap between their bodies.

"May I?" whispers Benji.

A part of Draco wants to tell Benji the same thing, that Benji doesn't have to ask. But Draco knows that today has no bearing on tomorrow, that there are days when Draco will most certainly refuse, no matter how much he wants it.

So Draco just nods, not trusting his voice to speak.

Benji rests his hand on the curve of Draco's cheek, framing the line connecting Draco's jaw and temple. Draco swallows hard, then brings his hand up to rest on Benji's cheek, too.

Draco knows Benji is going to kiss him. One of the best things about Benji is his predictability. Draco doesn't have to worry about how he's going to react or whether his smiles are _actually_ smiles. With Benji, Draco knows where he stands.

 _You only appreciate that because you're screwed up in the head,_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Pansy says.

 _Shut it, Imaginary Pansy,_ Draco thinks crossly.

Benji wraps his arm around Draco's back. His lips barely brush against Draco's when the phone rings.

"Ignore it," Draco says.

"I was planning on it," Benji says with a quiet laugh.

The phone keeps ringing. In the back of his mind, Draco realizes: it's not Benji's phone.

It's Harry's ringtone.

Draco curses and pulls away. Benji looks slightly dazed.

"Sorry, did I--"

"No," Draco says faintly. "No, I--"

His phone stops ringing for a few seconds, only to begin again. Something shuts off in Benji's eyes.

"You should probably get that," Benji says.

Draco walks over to his coat and, with cold and fumbling fingers, pulls his phone out.

"Yes?" he asks tersely.

"It worked," Harry says. "We have a trail. The caster has less than an hour, by Hermione's estimations."

"Congratulations," Draco says flatly.

"We need you," Harry says. "You're the only one who knows how to reverse the curse. We'd prefer not to drag back a dead body tonight."

Draco bites back a string of foul descriptions he thinks suits Harry's minions perfectly.

 _"Draco,"_ Harry says, somehow managing to combine a hiss with a plea.

Draco counts to ten.

 _Astoria, you lied to me,_ Draco thinks. _This pathetic counting tactic does **nothing**._

"Very well," Draco says in the coldest voice he can manage. "Where are they?"

"I'll text you the location," Harry says.

Then he hangs up, which only makes Draco seethe more.

"You okay?" Benji asks.

"I'm fine," Draco says shortly. "I just--there's an issue, and I need--"

"I can drive you--"

"No," Draco says. "No, I--I'll just get a cab."

An awkward pause settled around them, and Draco feels like his insides are crawling into themselves. Eventually, Benji smiles, but it doesn't have his usual force.

"Right," he says awkwardly. "I'll . . . see you, then?"

Draco tries to smile. He really does, but it just ends up being more like a grimace.

He should give Benji a hug. Or do something, anything, other than grab his coat and flee from the house.

.

The glass crunches under Draco's boots.

"Glad to see your Aurors took such good care of the crime scene," Draco hisses, surveying the mess of a house with Harry's minions swarming to and fro.

Harry looks even more tense than usual, which is saying a lot. 

"The trail disappeared," Harry says.

Ice crystallizes over Draco's skin.

"So he's dead," Draco says harshly. "Find the Time Turner and leave."

Draco bitterly reflects on the fact that Harry could have just _called_ and told Draco not to come.

Harry shakes his head. "The Time Turner isn't here," he says. "Furthermore . . ."

He walks over to a body on the ground and yanks the sheet back, revealing a middle-aged man with sunken cheeks.

"He's a Squib," Harry says shortly.

Draco's hand clenches briefly.

"His blood," Draco says, "but not his spell."

"So basically, we indirectly killed the wrong guy," Harry says. "All our tracking did was focus on the bloodletter, not the Time Turner itself, so it was all for nothing." Harry's eyebrow is twitching now, which is usually a sign to lesser mortals to run and hide. "The Time Turner is still hidden."

"Of course," Draco says faintly. "Once a spell is cast, it has to be _uncast._ The death of the one whose blood is used does not negate the fact that it was cast in the first place. The devolvement of the curse affected the poor idiot who lost his blood, but the Time Turner is still hidden."

"My head hurts," Harry says.

"Yes, the great Harry Potter never had to pay attention in class," Draco says dismissively. He ignores Harry's sputtering. "We all know."

"Is there good news?" Harry asks. "Because you seem to be spouting mainly death and doom."

"The spell is weaker without . . . this," Draco says, nudging the corpse with his foot. "So now your pathetic, watered down detective wannabes have a shot at finding the Time Turner without my help."

"Naturally," Harry says, not even taking offense at Draco's denouncement of his men. "But it would be far easier with you."

Draco glares at Harry. Harry smiles at Draco. Draco briefly fantasizes about snapping Harry's wand in half and stabbing him with it.

Scorpius would probably be upset if Draco murdered his boyfriend's father, though.

Draco resigns himself to another onslaught of misery.

.

**Benji: You know you can talk to me right**

**Draco: Of course**

**Benji: You've just seemed off lately**

**Benji: And idk I'm just here if you need to talk**

**Draco: Thank you**

**Draco: But everything is fine**

.

"You seem stressed," Astoria observes.

"I _am_ stressed," Draco says.

"Have you tried talking to him?" Astoria asks.

"He's a Muggle," Draco says. "I _can't--"_

"How much of it was a lie?" asks Astoria. Draco stares at her, his throat tightening. "The person you showed to Benji? The person you choose to be around him?"

"I'm not--it's not a lie," Draco says. "I just . . . There are things I can't tell him, and it's not my personal choice--"

"Draco Malfoy," Astoria breathes, "you defied your family to marry me. You fought against a world that had every reason to hate you. People spit on you, on me, on our _child,_ when they saw us in the streets. And now? You're respectable. Scorpius is accepted, loved. You _won._ Do you honestly expect me to believe that a little thing like the Statute of Secrecy has sway over you?"

"That is not a _little thing,_ Astoria--"

"You keep lying," Astoria says. "You keep showing yourself this Impressionist painting of reality. You aren't hiding things from Benji because of the _law--_ you're doing it because you're scared of him running away."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Draco demands. "Pull out my wand next time I see him and use _Fiendfyre_ to burn his house to the ground?"

"Seamus Finnegan's father was a Muggle," Astoria says.

"And he didn't find out Seamus's mother was a witch until he was stuck with her," Draco snaps.

Astoria snorts. "I don't think that's an option for you. Seamus's mother was a mere consumer of magic. Your life _revolves_ around it--you breathe and exhale magic like _air,_ Draco. How do you plan on hiding things until you get to the point of marriage?"

"I can't tell him," Draco says.

"You can't tell him about magic?" Astoria asks. "Or you can't tell him about the Death Eaters?"

Draco feels as if Astoria slapped him in the face. 

"I fear I've upset you," Astoria says. "Have I, in all my painted glory, failed to live up to the human model? Have I, as a magical object, upset you in my inaccuracies?"

"Don't," Draco whispers, his voice the palest thread in the dark of night.

"Have you cried for me?" Astoria asks. When Draco does not answer, she smiles, a queer, blank upturn of her mouth. "And there we are. Your reality, my love, is no reality at all."

.

Draco wakes up with a crick in his neck. This should not come as a surprise, as he fell asleep at his desk with a dusty book as a pillow, but Draco cannot help feeling betrayed. To add to the injury, Draco sneezes all over his stacks of books.

Draco is going to cry.

These are _heirlooms._ These are worth more than five of the most powerful Wizarding families combined. And Draco _sneezed_ on them.

Draco feels hungry and itchy and about a thousand other annoying things all at once. Oh, would that he felt nothing at all.

Draco eases out of his chair, wincing at the sound of his joints popping. His back complains the entire way to the kitchen, which is probably a sign that Harry Potter is ruining Draco's posture. First the child savior had to reject Draco's handshake . . . Then he had the nerve to be the reason Draco was _slouching._

Draco grabs a knife to cut a slice of bread. His phone, quite dead, is lying with his silverware, like a fallen foe among their comrades.

Draco rubs his eyes, then picks his phone up and plugs it in.

.

About a day (and two sandwiches) later, Draco remembers his phone. It takes a little while for it to turn back on, but Draco lets out a strangled cry of dismay.

He has 11 missed calls and 73 unread texts, spanning over a week. _A week._ It's _December._

Scorpius is probably going mental. _Benji_ is probably going mental.

Two of the calls and six of the texts are also from Harry, but Draco frankly does not have enough energy to care.

A new message comes from Scorpius. Draco looks at the past messages. It's just pictures of pet rats he found on the Internet.

Draco lets his forehead fall against the counter with a groan.

.

**Draco: I'm so sorry.**

**Draco: I didn't mean to ignore you. I was researching for a new article, and I forgot to charge my phone.**

**Draco: And also eat. As one does.**

.

Benji hasn't responded yet. Draco has been staring at the same sentence in his book for the past two hours, and Benji _still_ has not responded, and now Draco doesn't want to eat.

He should definitely eat because he has not had lunch, and he promised Scorpius that he would try to be "less of a starving genius." But Draco feels like he's about to throw up at any moment, and the thought of food only worsens the sensation.

Maybe Benji is dead. Benji probably died _hours_ ago, and Draco didn't notice because he was too busy drooling over cursed manuscripts.

Maybe _Draco_ is dead, and this is Hell. Although . . . Draco is pretty sure that his father would be present if Draco were in Hell. Perhaps Purgatory?

.

**Benji: you scared the shit out of me**

**Benji: Please eat**

**Benji: Or I swear to god I will come over and force feed you**

.

Draco rests his head on his arms and inhales shakily.

.

The next Saturday, Draco sits at a table in McDonald's, convinced that he, Benji, and Sophie are going to die.

"You okay?" Benji asks, nudging Draco's arm gently.

Draco stares with horrified fascination as Sophie climbs all over the "play place."

"I'm fine," Draco says. "Why?"

"You've wiped the table and chairs down with disinfectant wipes about five times now."

"Just . . . trying to be thorough," Draco chokes out, his eyes glued to Sophie's small pink form as she rolls around in a germ-riddled tube.

Draco lived in a warzone for over a year, but he is pretty sure that there is more bacteria to be found in this shoddy excuse of a restaurant than he encountered the entire war.

Draco squirts some hand sanitizer in his palms and rubs it into Benji's hands.

"Romantic," Benji says with a dorky smirk.

"Precautionary," Draco says.

Draco hates how weak he is. How dare Sophie turn her big eyes and her quivering lip on Draco when he shot down Benji's sarcastic suggestion to go to McDonald's? How dare Benji laugh hysterically at the panic in Draco's face? How _dare_ Draco's pathetic inability to say _no_ allow this to happen?

"The ice cream is really good," Benji says.

"The ice cream machine is _broken,"_ Draco says. _"What_ ice cream?"

"Okay, but every four years, the ice cream machine magically rises from the ashes and is reborn like never before. Every patron gets ice cream for a week, and it's _glorious."_

"I can't believe that's your definition of _glorious,"_ Draco mutters under his breath.

Benji snickers and rubs some hand sanitizer into Draco's hands.

All of a sudden, Sophie starts wailing loudly. Draco feels panic shoot up to his throat as he watches Sophie flop on the ground, covered in some cretin's spilled milkshake. 

"Stay here," Benji says. "The germs are even more bountiful in there."

As Benji jogs off to rescue Sophie from her plight, Draco feels a part of his brain shut down. It's _worse?_ And parents just let their children loll in such squalor? _Benji_ let _Sophie_ endanger herself?

Could this day get any worse?

"Draco!" a slightly out of breath voice calls.

Oh. Apparently, it could.

Harry drops into Benji's empty seat.

"We found him," Harry says.

"Good for you," Draco says tersely. "Get out."

"It took me ages to find you," says Harry.

"Ever heard of owls? And phones?"

"You haven't been answering my texts," Harry says, a hint of grumpiness corrupting his already obnoxious voice.

Oh. Right. Draco forgot that he never ended up replying to Harry.

"Again," Draco hisses, _"owls."_

"You answered _Hermione's_ texts," Harry says.

"What are we, five? Get over yourself."

Harry says dryly, "Says the one who's still bitter about a rejected handshake."

Draco fumes silently. He is _not_ bitter about a rejected handshake. He's just bitter about Harry Potter's entire existence. 

At least Scorpius and Albus both think Draco is the cooler dad. It's the little things like this that help Draco through these trying times.

"I owled the research to you," Draco snaps. "You caught him. My work here is done. Now _leave--"_

"Yeah, but we need you to look over the Time Turner. We can't destroy it until we take the curse off."

 _"Why?"_ Draco hisses.

"It's still obscured from magic. We even tried using _Fiendfyre,_ and it acted like the Time Turner wasn't there."

Draco wants to start screaming. Maybe if he bangs his head on the table hard enough, he will render himself unconscious. Better yet, dead.

"Can't this wait?" Draco asks as politely as possible. In other words, he snarls.

"You really trust the Ministry to make the right decision if we give them so much as a minute to think things over?" Harry asks dryly.

Draco reluctantly concedes that Harry has a point--only in his mind, of course. Harry's head is big enough without Draco's help.

"Besides," Harry says cheerfully, pulling out an oddly wrapped bundle and placing it on the table, "you can just do it once you get home."

Draco can feel his face drain of color. He takes it back. Draco is rescinding any and all points Harry may or may not have earned in the past.

"Are you _mad?"_ Draco demands. "There are people in this restaurant!"

"Oh, the Muggles just think we're doing a drug deal," Harry says dismissively.

Draco wonders about the ethical and legal implications of using wandless magic to set Harry on fire.

_"I don't know what happened, sir. He just spontaneously combusted in front of me, and no one raised a wand. His overflowing, abundant power as the Chosen One must have proven too much for his frail body."_

"What are Muggles?" Benji asks.

Draco slowly lifts his head to find Benji standing next to him, Sophie clutching his hand, still teary eyed over the large white stain marring her pink dress.

"What do you mean, _what are Muggles?"_ Harry asks. "You must know--" Realization dawns on his face, and his jaw drops. He points at Draco. "You--you--you lied! He's not American! He's a _Muggle!"_

"Problem?" Draco hisses.

Harry bursts out laughing, drawing the attention of other people in the restaurant. Draco's urge to set Harry on fire goes up with every second.

"This is--this is fantastic!" Harry exclaims. He shakes Benji's hand vigorously, ignoring the confusion in Benji's eyes, then high-fives Sophie. "Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Extraordinaire, dating a Muggle! This is the best day of my life, and I have a wife and four kids!"

"Three," Draco snaps.

"Scorpius counts," Harry says with a flap of his hand.

"Scorpius most certainly does _not_ count," Draco hisses.

"Well, according to the Prophet, our gay love affair makes it count," Harry says, getting to his feet. Benji makes a noise that's a cross between a choke and a gasp. "I'll see you later, Draco. Make sure to fix that curse for us."

"Are you an elf, too?" Sophie blurts out, eyeing Harry's wizarding robes.

"Nope!" Harry says. "According to the Prophet, I'm the antichrist!"

In high spirits, Harry exits the restaurant, whistling a jaunty tune the whole way.

Benji looks at Draco.

"There are many words running through my head right now," says Benji, "but Sophie's here, so I can't say any of them."

"Daddy doesn't like to say _poop_ in front of me," Sophie tells Draco in a conspiratorial whisper.

Draco is pretty sure Benji has stronger words on his mind, but who is he to corrupt Sophie's innocent mind?

"Drugs, huh," Benji says, pointing to the Time Turner.

"Um," says Draco, "no, that's an ancient artifact passed down many generations that Harry, uh, wants me to . . . set on fire. To . . . purify it."

"Right," Benji says flatly. "Listen, I gotta drop Sophie off at Nancy's. We can talk later."

Draco wishes he were never born.

.

**Scorpius: Dad how come you never respond to my rat pics?**

**Draco: I forward them all to Pansy**

**Scorpius: Omggggg dad ily**

**Draco: I don't understand**

**Scorpius: aikbdHJKBJHKSABJHBSCCH**

**Draco: 7**

.

"I'm not mad at you," Benji says.

He and Draco are sitting on opposite sides of the couch. The distance is less than a meter, but it might as well be a canyon.

"I'm just . . . worried about you," Benji says.

"I'm fine," Draco says.

"No, you're not!" Draco stiffens at the harsh note in Benji's voice, and Benji groans, rubbing his face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. That wasn't . . ."

"You're concerned," says Draco. "But you don't have to be. Nothing is wrong--"

"You don't sleep anymore," Benji says, his eyes practically pinning Draco in place. "You don't eat. You keep odd hours, you're barely around anymore, and when you are . . . you leave at the drop of a hat."

"I--I know I haven't been . . . the best at things," Draco says, his hands trembling slightly. "But I was just--really busy. I'll be better; I just--"

"I'm not mad at--"

"You're clearly upset--"

"This isn't an argument--"

"Then stop trying to debate with me!" Draco snaps.

Benji lets his head fall into his hands, inhaling sharply. He looks up at Draco, his normally soft hazel eyes piercing.

"Can you be honest with me?" Benji asks slowly.

Draco feels his chest constrict. He can't, though. If Benji asks the wrong question, if Benji gets too close to the truth, Draco will _have_ to lie. It's just the way things are.

But what is Draco supposed to say? This question only has one right answer, and Draco has to give it.

Draco nods.

"Did you," Benji asks, his voice somehow simultaneously gentle and hard, "go back to the cult?"

Draco stares at Benji.

This is not the way he expected this conversation to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to schlongbottom.tumblr.com and the rest of the spouse cult for helping me with this chapter!
> 
> If you catch any mistakes in this chapter, please tell me. My beta and I try to catch everything we can, but we're both kinda sleep-deprived XD
> 
> We're almost at the end, y'all . . . You excited? I'm excited (to be done lmao).


	4. Lies, Lies, and More Lies (but Mostly Miscommunications)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting, y'all. :P I hope the crack and the lack of angst make up for things?

"The cult," Draco repeats.

"You've been acting odd ever since that . . . since Harry showed up at my place," Benji says. Benji looks at Draco, his eyes flickering. 

Draco feels as if every inch of his skin were carved from ice. He cannot move, even for such a small act as taking in air. A cold blankness steals over his mind.

"I'm not," Draco says. He has to clear his throat. "I'm not back in the cult."

"Harry called himself the antichrist," Benji says.

"He was joking."

"He said the 'Prophet' predicted your gay love affair."

"He has a vivid imagination and also forgets to takes his meds."

"He told you to fix a curse," Benji says.

"He meant his life," Draco says. "His life is the curse."

"For God's sake, Draco! How stupid do you think I am?"

Draco is weightless, without an anchor to speak of, floating away to the crushing vacuum of space.

"I don't," Draco whispers, so soft that he can barely hear his own voice.

"Then why do you keep lying?" Benji asks, his eyes pained.

"I'm not in the cult," Draco says, and he can barely keep his voice from shaking. "I would _never--_ you don't understand--I couldn't--"

Unexpectedly, Benji draws Draco into a hug. Draco closes his eyes, fighting for every moment of calm. All the while, a voice screams a him, _You cannot lose this; you cannot lose this--_

"Okay," Benji says, his voice drained of color. "Just . . . breathe, please."

Draco tries to even his breath, to count the seconds in between, but the whole situation is circling around his shoulders and tightening around his neck. It's not that he can't breathe. It's just that his throat is too tight to let anything more than a shallow breath pass by.

Benji waits for a few seconds, then says slowly, "I believe you." Relief courses through Draco's veins, only for dread to return upon Benji's next words: "But you're still hiding something, aren't you?"

"I can't--talk about it," Draco whispers.

Benji buries his face in Draco's shoulder for a moment before pulling back.

"I . . . really like you," Benji says.

"The feeling is mutual," says Draco.

"I . . ." Benji starts his sentences at the end of each exhalation, when he has already used up his air. "I lied to Nancy. All the time. It was easy. It was normal. It was a _habit."_ He tries to smile, but his eyes are starting to glisten. "I don't want that with you."

"You don't have it," Draco says.

"Where'd you go to school?" Benji asks.

Draco stares at Benji.

"How come I've never heard of your books?" Benji asks.

One time, Draco fell out of a tree at Hogwarts. He can remember how everything seemed so silent and still, as if the world ceased spinning just for him.

"If you live in Wiltshire," Benji says, "then how are you able to get here so fast?"

Draco lay in the grass for what felt like forever, waiting for someone to come and help him up.

"Why won't you let me see your house?"

The sky was so blue, and the grass bit through Draco's clothes and into his skin.

"So many lies," Benji says, his mouth crumpling.

Eventually, Draco had to accept that no one saw him and tried to stand.

Benji looks at Draco, tears starting to spill.

"I can't do this," Benji says, his voice breaking.

"I know," Draco says distantly.

He couldn't get up from the grass. Gravity was pinning him to the ground and suffocating him as he stared up at the sky.

"I _really_ liked you," Benji whispers again.

The past tense spears through Draco's soul.

Benji gets to his feet, and Draco knows. This isn't an argument. This isn't something that Draco can make an excuse for and fix a few days later. 

Benji is leaving.

"Wait!" Draco blurts out, scrambling to his feet. "Please, just--"

His hand closes around Benji's wrist, and Benji stills.

"I'm not in the cult again," Draco says. "I'm not ever, ever going to go back, _I promise._ I know--I know I haven't been truthful with you, and I'm sorry, but I wasn't--I'm not allowed to _talk_ about it--"

Benji is waiting, his eyes fixed on Draco's face. Draco feels as if all his insides are vibrating, and a sour taste floods his mouth.

Benji could still leave. Benji could mistrust Draco even more than he does now.

_"There's always **Obliviate,"** Astoria remarked one night._

_"I'm not erasing my boyfriend's memory," Draco said._

_"Just as a precaution, my love."_

Draco slips his other hand into his pocket, loosely grasping his wand.

"I'm a wizard," Draco says.

Benji's eyebrows knit together, and he looks at Draco with incredulity.

"Magic is real," Draco says. "I went to a school for it, and that's where my son goes right now. The _Prophet_ is our newspaper, and Harry isn't _really_ the antichrist--he just saved the world from the wizard equivalent of Hitler, and everyone calls him the Chosen One, and apparently the editor for the _Prophet--"_

"Wizard Hitler," Benji repeats faintly.

"--thinks that this is Harry's secret plan to take over the world, which is _ridiculous._ The man can barely keep track of his children, let alone the entire world. He and his precious Aurors--wizard police, mind you--couldn't find a magical time travel device, so they asked me to help, which I _did,_ except it dragged out much longer than it should have, which is why I kept running off at odd times. It's over now, and I already took off the curse, so--"

 _"Curse,"_ Benji repeats, his voice growing shrill.

"--I shouldn't be gone too much, anymore than what's reasonable, you know. Also, I didn't want to take you to my house because it's technically a manor, and there are random talking paintings, but--"

Benji grabs Draco by the shoulders and looks at him with visible concern.

"Are you high? Are you hallucinating?" Benji asks. "Do I need to drive you to the hospital?"

Draco tries to think of a way to explain, to find words that would make it all _sensible._ He comes up short.

Draco pulls out his wand and points it at one of Benji's books.

 _"Leviosa,"_ Draco says.

Benji's face goes slack as the book floats to the middle of the room.

Benji circles the book a few times, then stickes his hand under and over it twice.

"What the _hell,"_ he says flatly.

"I can do magic," Draco says, lowering the book into Benji's hand. Benji drops it and stares, dazed, as the book _thumps_ onto the carpet. "I _am_ an author, but I write about witchcraft and curses, and for the past few weeks, I--"

Benji grips his hair tightly, looking as if he is on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"Hold on," he says. _"Hold on._ You cannot _possibly--_ you cannot expect me to hear you say that you have _magic_ and just--"

 _"Expecto patronum!"_ Draco shouts.

A silvery panther leaps from the tip of his wand and swirls around Benji's body. Benji falls back onto the floor, his mouth dropping.

"It won't hurt you," Draco says.

His eyes wide, Benji reaches out a trembling hand, and the panther nuzzles his palm.

"It feels tingly," Benji whispers.

"It's magic," Draco says.

Benji starts to laugh, this helpless, choked noise from the back of his throat that has too much hysteria in it to be true laughter after all.

"Are you . . . are you okay?" Draco asks uncertainly.

"I thought you were in a cult," Benji says, all but giggling. "And then I thought you were cheating on me. But _no,_ apparently, magic is real, and you're a wizard!"

"You thought I was _cheating_ on you?" Draco demands, offense burning his cheeks.

Benji buries his face in his hands and groans. The panther nudges his shoulder gently, and Benji shies away.

"I don't know what's happening," Benji says faintly. 

Draco awkwardly settles on his heels and touches Benji's arm as gingerly as one might test a stovetop for heat. When Draco's fingers come away burn-free, he rests his hand on Benji's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Draco says. 

"Sophie was right," Benji says, his eyes flicking to meet Draco's. "You really are a fairy."

"I can safely say that I am one hundred percent human," Draco says. "Just . . . magical."

Benji inhales shakily, then climbs to his feet. He offers Draco his hand, and Draco stands, wincing at the pops in his joints.

Draco waits for Benji to crack a joke about Draco's age, but instead, Benji just clutches Draco's hands, carressing Draco's wrists with his thumbs. Benji's eyes are still teary, and he looks at Draco with a tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows, his head tilted to the side.

"I'm gonna need some time," Benji says. "Just to process everything, but I'm--" He cups Draco's face, his fingers warm and so very _alive_ against Draco's skin. "I'm glad you told me."

Draco's face feels tense and flushed, as if the smallest movement will shatter his porcelain mockery of skin to shards. He risks the smallest movement of his lips: "So we aren't . . . we aren't broken?"

"Draco, love, _no,"_ Benji says. "We are both incredibly fucked up, and I'm extremely confused, and apparently _you're_ the king of the elves for real, but we aren't broken."

"Would we know, though?" Draco asks, his hands still dangling uselessly at his sides. "Because I read in a psychology article that sometimes relationships end before the significant others even realize, due to cracks in the foundation built up over time, and I've been lying to you for _months,_ and you don't even know what--"

Benji kisses Draco gently, his fingers fingers working through Draco's hair. Draco can feel Benji's tears spilling down his cheeks and onto Draco's. It's wet and messy, and Benji cries the entire time, but he's framing Draco's face in his hands like it's a work of art, _and they aren't broken._

This kiss tastes like salt, but Draco doesn't mind.

.

It takes a while for Benji to draw out the smallest of facts about magic. Every time Draco shares something, he waits for the inevitable.

(Benji will leave. It's just the way life works. He might enjoy this game of 20 questions now while Draco shares the whimsical and absurd, but once Draco starts to show Benji who he used to be, Benji will come to his senses and run.)

Draco tells Benji about unicorns and dragons, about levitating feathers in class and exploding cauldrons full of faulty potions. He describes the first time he held his wand and the warmth that spread from his hand to the rest of his body and the tips of his toes. He shows Benji pictures of Quidditch games, both his and that of professional players.

"How do you make them move?" Benji asks. "Is there some kind of spell?"

Draco shrugs and hands Benji a photo of Draco and a few of his Housemates.

"Is that the strange, goth lesbian who thinks I'm American?" Benji asks, poking Pansy's cocky smirk.

"The one and only," Draco says.

Unexpectedly, Benji starts to laugh. "Your _hair--"_ he chokes out amidst snorts, pointing at Draco's dreadful, fifth year bowlcut.

Draco snatches the photo away, his cheeks burning.

.

"Is Father Christmas real?" Benji asks one night over dinner.

"No," Draco says. "The Grimm Reaper is, though."

Benji just gives Draco a funny look, like he can't quite tell whether or not Draco is joking.

.

Sophie, unsurprisingly, takes the news in much more stride than Benji did.

"Well, _of course,_ magic is real," Sophie says impatiently. "I've been trying to tell you for _ages."_

"That was just pretend!" Benji says.

Sophie gasps with affronted horror, her tiny face scrunching up as she looks at Benji.

"Because, uh, _obviously,_ I could never be a fairy," Benji says.

Draco smothers a laugh, and Benji shoots Draco a glare.

"Fairies are _quite_ real," Draco says. "Your father isn't small enough, though, even short as he is." Benji's glare intensifies. "He's also much more intelligent than fairies," Draco quickly adds.

"Daddy's very smart _and_ tall," Sophie says.

"Your father _is_ very smart," Draco says agreeably.

"I hate you," Benji hisses into Draco's ear.

"Can you do magic?" Sophie asks.

Benji starts to say, _"Sophie--"_

Draco draws his wand, and Sophie's eyes widen. Draco picks up one of Sophie's toy dragons and taps it with his wand, whispering, _"Draconifors."_

The dragon's plastic scales melt and shimmer into something far more movable and _alive._ With a brief shake of its head, the dragon spreads its tiny wings, then takes to the air, flying around Sophie's head. Sophie gapes, reaching out to catch the dragon. It slips through her fingers, twisting and spitting sparks.

Sophie giggles with delight.

"You can't tell anyone," Benji warns.

The dragon lands on Sophie's palm, and Sophie strokes its flank with a shaky finger.

"I can keep secrets," Sophie says. 

"You can't even tell Mummy," Benji says firmly.

His phone rings, and he glances at it briefly before shutting it off.

"Don't be mean, Daddy," Sophie says. "Mummy already _knows_ Draco is magic."

"Don't be mean, Benji," Draco says. "Nancy already knows I'm the king of the elves."

Benji tosses one of Sophie's fairy dolls at Draco, and Draco dodges it with a smirk.

.

"He's taking this surprisingly well," Astoria remarks.

"I've neglected mentioning the whole Death Eater aspect," says Draco. "Also the school bully days. And the war. And pretty much anything heavier than basic magic theory."

"He's going to find out eventually," Astoria says gently.

"I know," Draco says. He tries not to look at her--he can't bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.

"It will be better if it comes from you," says Astoria.

 _"I know._ I'm . . . I'm working on it. It's not like I can just shove everything at him all at once," Draco huffs.

Astoria's eyes drift toward the bookshelf, and Draco feels his skin turn to ice.

"No," he says.

"But why, Draco? A book is so much easier than _talking_ about it. You've said that yourself."

"It's too much," Draco says. "I can't tell--I can't show him everything right away."

"It's not _right away,"_ Astoria says impatiently. "It's December."

Draco feels flat, as if all his color has been washed away.

"January," Draco says. "I'll tell him in January."

.

**Benji: Do you have a magic naptime spell? Asking for a friend**

**Draco: No**

**Benji: No you don't or no you won't do it for me :(**

**Benji: What if it's for me and not Sophie**

**Draco: I'll make you a sleeping potion.**

**Benji: So like... drugs?**

**Draco: Magical drugs**

.

Draco is eating with Ginny and Harry in their house. Ginny claimed that the reason they had so much difficulty in the past with conversation was because they went to such formal settings. So now Draco is sitting in their kitchen, waiting for the ceiling to cave in and crush them all.

He doesn't think it likely, but he would definitely appreciate it.

"So how's Benji doing?" Ginny asks cheerfully.

Draco carefully avoids spitting out his tea and swallows, completing his imitation of a rational wizard. He makes eye contact with the obvious suspect. Harry looks as if he is trying to find the convenient spot on the floor to curl up into a ball and die.

"I, uh, may have told her," Harry says. "And also Ron. And Hermione. And Pansy. And Blaise. And--"

Draco rests his forehead in his hands, internally screaming.

"You can stop now," Draco says.

"I was just really excited!" Harry says defensively.

"No one believed him," Ginny says serenely. "More potatoes, Draco?"

"Are you . . . insane?" Draco asks, his mouth dry.

Ginny and Harry look at him blankly.

"He's a Muggle," Draco says. The blank expressions in their eyes do not change. If anything, they only look more confused. Draco feels exasperation rise up in him. "Have you lot completely forgotten about the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Draco," Ginny says, a tiny wrinkle pinching her brow, "we got rid of the Statute _years_ ago."

Draco stares at them, waiting for the punchline. Harry nods behind her, saying, "It was pretty useless. No one paid it any mind, anyway."

"What," Draco says flatly.

"I mean, we just Obliviate them if they prove untrustworthy," Harry says blithely. "But it's just unrealistic to expect wizards to establish connections with Muggles if they aren't allowed to tell the truth."

"I think it passed shortly after . . ." Ginny coughs delicately. "Astoria, um--"

"Died," Draco finishes flatly.

"Sorry," Harry says, looking slightly embarrassed, "I would have told you if I had known you didn't--hold on." His eyes narrow slightly. "Have you been lying to him this whole time?"

Draco pauses, weighing the pros and cons of telling Harry and Ginny that he told Benji, despite being under the impression that it was illegal.

"Thanks for dinner," Draco says. "Your cooking is marvelous, Ginevra."

"Harry helped," Ginny says brightly.

"Oh, so that explains all the crunchy parts," Draco says.

He disapparates before Harry can retort.

.

Benji jumps when Draco apparates into the apartment. Draco is still fuming.

"This whole time!" Draco snarls, pinning Benji against the wall. "It was legal _this whole time,_ and no one told me!"

"Not really sure what any of this means, but okay," Benji says, his hand fitting against Draco's back.

"It _means_ that Harry Potter is a _fucking idiot!"_ Draco snaps, kissing Benji.

"Nice," Benji mumbles, his other hand knotting into Draco's hair and his breath coming in short gasps.

Draco decides that he can plan his revenge later.

.

**Draco: Benji will be with me when I pick you up.**

**Scorpius: Yay!**

**Scorpius: But wait is that even allowed???**

**Draco: Probably**

**Draco: Maybe**

**Draco: Don't ask anyone**

.

"How come I don't get fancy dress?" Benji whispers as he and Draco wait for the train.

"It's not fancy dress," Draco says. "It's just the way our clothes look."

Various wizards and witches cast curious glances toward Benji and Draco. The papers have been making a fuss about Draco dating a Muggle ever since Harry decided to run his big mouth to every friend he has.

Also, Benji keeps gasping and pointing at every single thing, like the pointy hats, the owls fluttering around people's heads, and the chocolate frogs.

"But they're moving," Benji hisses.

"It's just a spell."

"But they're _moving--"_ Benji stares with horror as one wizard rips the head off a chocolate frog almost savagely. "You _barbarian!"_ Benji yells.

The wizard whirls around, their wand raised menacingly. They lower it when they see Draco standing next to Benji, as well as Benji's plaid flannel and jeans.

"Muggle?" the wizard calls.

Draco smiles tightly and nods in affirmation.

The wizard starts laughing hysterically.

"MUGGLE!" they and the other witches and wizards shout. "ONE OF US, ONE OF US, ONE OF US!"

Luckily, the train arrives before anyone has time to ask for a selfie or an autograph--or horrors of all horrors, _both._

Draco grabs Benji's hand and drags him away, hidden in the confusion, to a safe corner secluded from prying eyes.

"Won't Scorpius wonder where we are?" Benji asks, as a horde of children clad in school robes storm off of the train.

"We'll find him," Draco says calmly.

All of a sudden, a short, slender boy with dark brown hair stumbles off the train, a red-haired girl on his shoulders.

"Get off!" Albus yells. "I gave you a ride last year! You're too heavy!"

"Forward, my noble steed!" Lily cries, pointing imperiously.

Scorpius trails behind, tossing Bertie Bott's Beans as Lily tries to catch them in her mouth. An enraged expression crosses her face, and she cries, "This is ear wax!"

With a shout of exasperation, Albus apparently decides that he has had enough and dumps Lily off his shoulders. Scorpius catches her bridal-style and gently lowers her to the ground.

Lily sticks her tongue out at Albus.

"Your boyfriend is nicer than you," she announces before flouncing off to find Ginny and Harry.

Draco pushes his way through the crowd, Benji shortly behind. Scorpius catches Draco's eye, his face lighting up.

"Dad!"

Scorpius waves excitedly, then begins to scan the ground near Draco's feet for some indiscernible reason.

"Hey, Mr. Malfoy!" Albus calls, also scanning the ground.

Draco hugs Scorpius, who keeps looking at the ground.

"My face is up here," Draco says.

"I'm looking for the dog," Scorpius says.

The . . . what?

"Hi," Benji says, shaking a distracted Scorpius Malfoy's hand. "I'm Benji."

Scorpius freezes.

"Mr. Malfoy," Albus says, horrified. "You _didn't."_

"You _transfigured_ the dog?" Scorpius wails. "Dad! That is _way_ worse than Albus making Ronny and Hermie!"

"What?" Draco asks blankly.

Benji grins with visible confusion, still shaking Scorpius's hand.

"You said you were bringing your dog!" Scorpius says.

"I said I was bringing my boyfriend."

Scorpius sputters. "You--you--what?!"

"Benji," Draco says, grasping at what little calm his dwindling sanity provided, "is my boyfriend."

"But what about the dog?" Scorpius asks.

"There is no dog," Draco says.

"JAMES SIRIUS, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" Albus roars, rushing off to tackle his big brother.

Scorpius rubs his face, then grins sheepishly at Draco.

"I can explain," he says. "Um, so . . . I kinda forgot about the boyfriend thing? And then after Professor McGonagall turned the rats back, Albus and I were really sad, and James said--and I quote--'Cheer up, losers! I heard Mr. Malfoy got a dog!' And then you started sending me stuff about Benji, and I just assumed that was what you named the dog, and--"

Scorpius's face pales, and he looks at Benji with dismay.

"Not that I think your name sounds like a dog name," he says hurriedly. "It's a very nice name. Albus and James like to call it _hipster,_ whatever that means. It's just, we bootlegged this super sad movie about a dog named Benji--which is not _illegal,_ by the way--so I just assumed, and _why am I still talking?"_

Scorpius groans and hides his face in his hands. Draco awkwardly pats Scorpius's shoulder.

Benji looks at Scorpius, then at Draco.

"The Malfoy resemblance is strong," Benji says with a tiny grin.

Benji's phone starts to ring, but he hits ignore without even looking at the screen.

"It's genetic," Draco says.

.

They go out for dinner. Draco can tell that Benji is practically vibrating with eagerness to ask Scorpius about Hogwarts and magic, but before he gets a word in, Scorpius starts to drill Benji about Muggle history and Benji's life.

"Do you talk about the witch hunts in history class?"

"Hogwarts offers Muggle curriculum. Do you offer witchcraft curriculum?"

"What impacts did _Star Trek_ have on modern media?"

"Have you ever watched a Broadway musical in person?"

"How come Muggles haven't tried going to the moon again?"

"Do _you_ want to go to the moon?"

"James told me that some Muggles are going to colonize Mars. What are you going to take with you if you have to go?"

"What are rubber ducks for? Where did they come from? Who invented them? Are they really made of rubber or just plastic? How come they don't look like _actual ducks?"_

The entire time, Benji stares with a dazed expression, occasionally managing to slip an answer in. 

"Scorpius," Draco says gently, "let Benji eat."

Scorpius glances down at his own barely touched plate of food and looks slightly embarrassed. He grins at Benji sheepishly.

"Sorry, I just find Muggle Studies _very intriguing,"_ he says solemnly. "I've never met a Muggle who could answer any of my questions before."

Benji looks on the verge of pointing out that he didn't actually answer anything but instead resigns himself to cutting off a bite of steak. Draco almost feels a twinge of sympathy. _Almost._

_"How do wizards stay hidden?"_

_"Are you like the X-Men? Is there some kind of nondominant gene that causes you to gain magic, like a mutation?"_

_"Do you have code names?"_

_"Can you cure cancer?"_

_"If this philospher's stone is real, then doesn't that mean that Elvis could still be alive?"_

_"Are UFO sightings just wizards on broomsticks?"_

_"How do wizards feel about the representation they get on TV and in books? Did Shakespeare know real wizards? Was Puck a real sprite?"_

_"Did wizards engage in duels to the death in the olden days, or was that just us? Did you have wizard knights? Do you **still** have wizard knights?"_

_"Is magic a religion? Do I have to convert? Will I get a cool costume like yours if I join?"_

Draco is unsure about the scientific validity of karma, but if such a thing is real, he is pretty sure that Benji is experiencing it right now.

.

"Dad?" Scorpius whispers back at the manor.

Draco looks at Scorpius, who is sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around himself. 

"Are things gonna change now?" Scorpius asks.

Draco sits next to Scorpius and wraps an arm around his thin shoulders.

"In a good way," Draco says.

"I--" Scorpius swallows, and his eyes dart up to meet Draco's. "I liked how things were," he says, his voice small. "Before. I mean, I was sad a lot, but there were a lot of nice things."

"There are still going to be nice things," Draco says, his heart twisting painfully. _Merlin,_ he doesn't know what he will do if Scorpius doesn't get on with Benji.

"It'll still be different," Scorpius says, his voice wavering.

Draco tucks his chin over Scorpius's hair, and Scorpius buries his face in Draco's chest.

"I miss her," Scorpius says, his voice cracking.

Draco has no words left. All he can do is hold his son as tightly as possible and pray that nothing will take Scorpius away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added another chapter to this because I realized it would have ended up being about 10k if I kept it at four chapters. >_< I hate writing and reading 10k chapters, so . . . here we are?
> 
> Don't worry. Scorpius and Benji WILL get on lmao
> 
> (I hesitated a little about the whole Statute of Secrecy thing but . . . I figured what the heck. It really doesn't make sense anyway, since Obliviate is ready and available for use. Also, how exactly are wizards supposed to maintain longterm relationships with Muggles if they can only lie to them? Lolol I highly doubt that people pay the Statute any mind if they've found someone they can trust, so . . . :P)
> 
> (Also, reality is my bitch, and I do what I want. <3)


	5. The Day Ends but the Year Goes On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a fucking one-shot.

Scorpius is taking a while to warm up to Benji. It's not obvious, of course. Scorpius doesn't _do_ obvious when he is unsure about someone. He mainly just . . . avoids things.

Benji tries. Except Scorpius is so subtle in the ways he avoids Benji that Draco can tell it's going to take a long time for them to even begin to have an actual conversation.

It's all humor and trivia and long rambles about history and magic. Scorpius talks so much, but in the end, nothing is said.

.

"Does Scorpius like me?" Benji asks.

Draco mulls the question over cautiously.

"He doesn't . . . _dislike_ you," Draco says.

Benji winces.

"He'll warm up to you," Draco assures him. "He just has trouble with change."

"I doubt it," Benji says glumly. "I'm only good with kids under five. That's why I teach nursery and not seconday."

"What are you going to do when Sophie becomes a teenager?" Draco asks.

Benji groans and buries his face into his hands.

.

"What's she like?" Scorpius asks as he and Draco walk to Benji's house from their apparation point. "His daughter?"

Scorpius has a tiny crease in the middle of his forehead that no teenager should have, and Draco aches for him. 

_"Too many things," Scorpius said. "There are too many things all at once."_

And Draco _understands_ because, looking back, he can see how he threw everything at Scorpius far too suddenly. For Draco, it was painfully slow, but he forgot to communicate with Scorpius as things progressed.

He still does not know how James, Scorpius, and Albus came to the conclusion that Benji was a dog, but he supposes they could have come to weirder assumptions. 

"She's very imaginative," Draco says. "She'll like you a lot."

"What if she doesn't, though?" asks Scorpius. "Because I read somewhere that strife between stepsiblings leads to strife between spouses, and if she doesn't like me, then Benji will hate me, and then he won't like you, and then--"

"Benji would never hate you," says Draco. "And marriage is a long way off."

Draco has too many secrets that he needs to reveal before he could ever so much as _contemplate_ marriage.

Scorpius does not look content with Draco's response, but they have already reached Benji's place. Draco raps on the door. Benji opens it, and Draco blinks rapidly.

"What is _that?"_ he demands, staring with ill-disguised horror as he and Scorpius step through the door.

Benji wears a hideous, neon green sweater with a bunch of bright red Santa's hats scattered across.

"It's Christmas!" Benji says brightly.

He trails into the kitchen, and Draco and Scorpius follow. Draco forces himself to look anywhere _but_ that tragedy of a sweater.

"It's December 21st," Draco says coldly. "And that's a crime against the eyes."

"It's been Christmas since the day after Halloween," Benji says dismissively.

That statement is so illogical that Draco has no idea how to begin to refute it.

Benji grins at Scorpius a little too brightly, and Scorpius offers a hesitant smile in return.

"How are you?" asks Benji.

"Did you know that the Code of Hammurabi was one of the earliest legal codes to have been recorded in stone?" Scorpius asks.

"I learned a little about it in school," Benji says.

"It's also one of the most extensive of early legal systems," Scorpius says. "While there are some undesirable aspects, it was rather groundbreaking. Did you know that--"

Sophie runs into the kitchen and skids to a stop. A sparkly cloak that is far too big for her frame drapes around her. Draco resists the urge to cut it in half so that she does not trip.

She hugs Draco tightly, sticking her face off to the side to stare at Scorpius.

"You're very tall," she informs Scorpius.

"Manners, princess," Benji says, scooping her up and peppering her face with kisses.

"EW!" Sophie yells, shoving Benji's face away and giggling. "You're yucky."

"You let me kiss you this morning," Benji says indignantly.

"That was _this morning,"_ Sophie complains, squirming in his arms. "You can't do kisses _all the time,_ Daddy."

Benji lets Sophie drop to the floor, and she walks up to Scorpius, squinting up at him with five-year-old skepticism. Scorpius crouches to meet her gaze and shakes her hand.

"I'm Scorpius," he says.

"Daddy told me," says Sophie. "Are you an elf, too?"

Draco nearly chokes. He forgot to tell Scorpius about that.

"I prefer to think of myself as a dryad," Scorpius says without missing a beat. 

"Cos you like trees," Sophie says.

"Because I _am_ a tree."

Sophie beams up at Scorpius, and Draco feels his shoulders loosen.

.

There's something about having a child present that lowers one's reservations. As Sophie talks with Scorpius, Draco can see the carefully hidden in anxiety in Scorpius's eyes fade away.

"You're like a candy bar with marshmallows in it," Sophie announces in the middle of dessert.

"Is that a good thing?" Scorpius asks.

"It means you're yucky like Daddy but in a good way," Sophie says.

Benji calmly takes her ice cream away, ignoring her flurries of protests.

"Bullies don't get rewarded," Benji says.

Sophie pouts, sulking against her chair. Scorpius slips her a cream puff under the table, and Draco stifles a smile.

"They're ganging up on me," Benji whispers to Draco.

Draco just laughs.

Benji's phone dings, and Benji glances down with a slight scowl before shutting it off completely.

"I wish some people would realize that texts are just as invasive as phone calls," he says to no one in particular.

.

**Albus: MR MALFOY I FOUND THE PERFECT PET RAT**

**Draco: I'm not buying you or Scorpius OR Pansy a rat.**

**Albus: OK I UNDERSTAND BUT IT STILL WOULD BE REALLY FUNNY**

**.**

**Pansy: I'm gonna be your best man, right?**

**Draco: What?**

**Pansy: At the wedding!!**

**Pansy: Ooh can i walk you down the aisle???? I CAN GIVE YOU AWAY**

**Draco: I don't think you understand how weddings work. And there isn't going to be a wedding yet.**

**Pansy: YET?**

**Pansy: 😏😏😏**

**Pansy: Draco you sly dog**

.

**Draco: I might have been a little hasty. Go ahead and send the information**

**Albus: YES**

.

"WAKE UP!" Sophie shouts. "WAKE UP! IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

Benji groans and buries his face in Draco's chest, assuming a fetal position as he claps his hands over his ears.

In a flurry of giggles, Sophie jumps into the bed and starts beating Benji with a pillow.

"It's Christmas, Daddy!" she exclaims.

"No," Benji moans. "It's morning. It's not Christmas in the morning."

Sophie pouts and turns wide eyes onto Draco.

"It's _Christmas,_ Draco," she says with an air of finality.

"It's five thirty," Draco says sternly.

Sophie cheers, throwing her pillow up into the air.

"YEAH! CHRISTMAS!"

Draco sighs and nudges Sophie.

"We'll be down in a minute," he says. "Go wake up Scorpius."

Sophie runs out of the room, and Benji raises an eyebrow at Draco.

"If I have to suffer, so does he," Draco says grimly.

"That's the spirit," says Benji.

.

Sophie is in the middle of ripping open Scorpius's present when Benji's phone starts to ring. Benji picks it up slowly, his face unreadable, and answers it.

He wanders off to the other side of the room, and Draco watches as Benji's shoulders tense up. Benji leaves the room.

Draco doesn't know whether he should follow or whether he should just stay and wait for Benji to return. But there is something about the misery twisting across Benji's face that urged Draco forward.

Draco enters the kitchen to find Benji standing in front of the window, his voice terse.

"--not what I meant," Benji hisses. "Look, I just--"

The moment seems too personal, uncomfortable in its rawness, so Draco starts to turn away. Benji's hand latches abruptly around Draco's wrist. Draco stills.

Benji lets go quickly, looking slightly embarrassed.

 _Stay,_ he mouths.

Draco nods.

Benji starts to trace the pattern in the curtain, his face darkening the longer he stays on the phone. At one point, he seems on the verge of tears, but he doesn't hang up. He just stands there and listens, staring blankly at the curtains.

Eventually, Benji's hand falls to his side, his phone loosely lying in his hand.

It's his mum.

Draco thinks of all the phone calls Benji has been ignoring for the past weeks, the countless times he has turned off his phone to avoid the incessant ringing. How long has Ruth been trying to talk to Benji? Since the disastrous attempt at dinner? How long has Benji been struggling with this alone?

When Benji finally speaks, his voice is so soft that it's barely recognizable.

"Do you ever think about your parents and tell yourself that everything was fine? That you're just exaggerating a problem that wasn't even there? And then you randomly remember something that's just so-- _wrong,_ and you wonder why you ever thought you had a healthy relationship with them?"

Draco swallows painfully, then nods.

Benji is barely looking at him, still absorbed by the swirls in the heavy curtains.

"My dad's brother died when I was a kid," Benji says quietly, "and Mum told me to give him space. To not really talk to him, you know? Just . . . wait it out. And I tried. I didn't want to hurt him or make him mad, but I just--I set him off somehow. I don't really remember how or why. It had something to do with math, and I messed up a sum, and he called me--"

Benji looks at Draco and laughs abruptly, this short, forced sound that grates on Draco's ears.

Benji says, "It's so stupid. I don't even know why I got so upset. He called me an idiot, and I tried to argue with him because I _wasn't,_ and he just started _screaming_ at me. I couldn't speak. His voice was so loud, and Mum was just _sitting there,_ and I didn't know what I did wrong. He wouldn't stop. I ran to my room, but he stood at the foot of the stairs and kept shouting even after I slammed the door."

Draco opens his mouth, but the words get stuck in his throat.

"I don't--I don't think it was stupid to be upset about that," Draco says.

"He wasn't always like that, you know?" Benji asks, barely paying attention to Draco. "I mean, there were happy things. We had family game nights. We went fishing. He made me laugh."

"There were still bad things, though," Draco says slowly. "They don't necessarily negate each other."

Draco touches Benji's wrist lightly, and Benji takes hold of Draco's hand. It's more automatic than anything--Benji is on autopilot, and it hurts Draco to watch. 

"You don't have to answer her when she calls, you know," Draco says.

"It's _Christmas,"_ Benji says.

"You don't even believe in Christmas," says Draco.

"I like the _idea_ of Christmas," Benji says. "Time with family. Goodwill and cheer. Gifts. Love."

Draco gently nudges Benji and says quietly, "I'm pretty sure you already have that."

Benji looks into the sitting room where Scorpius is setting a haphazard crown made from gift wrap and tape on Sophie's head.

"You don't owe your parents anything," Draco says.

Sophie places a gift wrap crown on Scorpius's head, then falls over in a flurry of high-pitched giggles that signify a lack of sleep and an overabundance of sweets.

Benji squeezes Draco's hand briefly, then walks back into the sitting room.

.

The next day, Benji blocks his parents.

"Should I feel guilty about this?" Benji asks.

"I think you're allowed to feel however you feel about it," Draco says. "But you have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Happy Christmas to me, eh?" Benji asks.

"Is that how it feels?" asks Draco.

Benji mulls it over, his fingers fluttering against his phone. 

"Kind of," he says. "I guess I just didn't know how . . . _easy_ it would be." He laughs, a brief, almost wild note of relief. "God. I should have done this _years_ ago."

Draco's fingers lace with Benji's.

"Was it hard for you?" Benji asks. "With your parents?"

Draco thinks of the letters that flooded the manor for the first few weeks. He read a few and threw away the rest.

After a few months, less and less letters came before disappearing completely.

"So many things are hard," Draco whispers.

.

**Pansy: i hate u i hate u i hATE U I HATEUIHATEU!!!!!!!**

**[Pansy has sent a picture.]**

**Draco: It was Scorpius's idea.**   
**Pansy: I FUCKIGN HATE YOUUUUUUUUUUU**

**Pansy: WHY**

**Pansy: DID YOU GET ME**

**Pansy: A RAT FOR CHRISTMAS**

**Draco: Her name is Hermy, and she loves you very much.**

**Pansy: UR SICK SICK ABSOLUTELY SICK WHY WOULD U GET ME A RAT NAMED AFTER HERMIONE GRANGER U SICK FREAK I HATE YOU**

**Draco: She just wants to be loved. You're hurting her feelings.**

**Pansy: Im gonna kill you and i wont even get prosecuted you freak. U WEIRDO**

**Pansy: The jury will be on my side they will thank me for my service to the wizarding world**

**Pansy: U HEAR ME DRACO????? NOWEHRE!!! NOWHERE WILL BE SAFE I HAAAATE YOU**

**Draco: Hermy is cute. You're just rude.**

**Pansy: It's not the gift's fault that the giver is an absolute MORON**

**Draco: So you admit that she's cute**

**Pansy: .............................**

**Pansy: Cuter than you'll be when I finish with you**

.

When it comes time for Scorpius to return to Hogwarts, he and Benji have reached an understanding of sorts. Scorpius still seems a little unsure of Benji every now and then, but Benji is usually able to coax him into a conversation.

Part of the problem, Draco knows, is that Scorpius doesn't rely on Benji to be _real._ The _too good to be true_ mantra seems to loop in Scorpius's head, and Draco suspects that a part of Scorpius is afraid of Benji running off or dying without any warning.

Draco and Benji can't really do anything about that, though, other than trying their best to show Scorpius that's not going to happen (although the dying aspect _could_ happen, as death chooses her victims carelessly, but that is a conversation for another day). Scorpius _likes_ Benji. Draco hopes that Scorpius will eventually trust Benji as well.

At the train station, Scorpius hugs Draco briefly. Sophie giggles as he drops two kisses, one on each of her eyebrows. After a brief moment of hesitation, Scorpius hugs Benji, too.

Benji's eyes widen slightly as he hugs Scorpius back.

"See you later," Scorpius says. "I'll text you."

Then he runs off into the sea of robes.

.

**Draco: Help**

**Draco: Benji's friends invited us for tea**

**Draco: And they're going to ask me things**

**Draco: WHAT DO I TELL THEM**

**Draco: AM I SUPPOSED TO ASK THEM THINGS, TOO?**

**Draco: PANSY PARKINSON ANSWER YOUR PHONE THIS SECOND**

**Draco: PANSY**

**Pansy: Calm down hoe i was baking**

**Pansy: Tell them u write porn for a living**

**Draco: PANSY**

**Pansy: 😈 u gave me a rat and now ur paying for it**

.

Pansy likes to say that she can tell what someone is like based on the people they spend their time with.

_"For example," she often says, "everyone can tell that you're a depressed, repressed disaster gay."_

Pansy isn't funny, no matter how much she likes to laugh at her own jokes.

Even so, Draco cannot help wondering what Pansy would have to say about Benji's two friends, Nick and Janice.

"So, Draco!" Nick says brightly, lounging against Janice on the couch. "Are you a boring teacher like every other person in Benji's life?"

Janice laughs and shoves Nick away.

"Be nice," she says. "Benji will find all kinds of ways to get revenge if you scare his boyfriend away."

"Draco writes," Benji says.

"Textbooks?" asks Nick.

"Horror stories?" Janice asks eagerly, leaning forward slightly.

 _Say you write porn! Say you write porn!_ Draco's imaginary Pansy chants.

"I write research articles," Draco says. "About witchcraft."

Janice's and Nick's eyes light up.

"Are you a witch?" Janice asks.

Draco nearly chokes on his tea. He sets it down with shaky hands.

"No," he says.

_I'm a wizard._

"Do you know any witches?" Janice asks.

"Why?" Draco asks sarcastically. "You want to burn them?"

Benji starts to laugh but quickly stifles it.

 _"I'm_ a witch," Nick says cheerfully.

"He's not," Benji says quickly, clearing his throat. "He's not that kind of witch."

"I see," Draco says stiffly.

What other kinds of witches are there?

"Anyway," Benji says quickly, before Draco or Nick can say anything else, "how's work?"

Janice groans and tosses a scatter cushion at Benji.

"Could you be any more boring?" Janice demands.

Nick does not seem to share Janice's reservations about work stories and launches into a sordid tale involving food poisoning, lawsuits, and rats. Draco isn't sure whether to be amused or horrified.

"You're exaggerating," Benji says. "There is _no way_ your student was dumb enough to try to eat the already dissected frog."

"Just because they're old enough to drive does not mean that they're intelligent," Nick says.

"For example," says Janice, squeezing Nick's thigh, "this guy has been driving for _years_ and is still a disastrous mouth-breather."

Nick sneers at her.

"Any boring stories of your own?" Janice asks Benji.

"My kids were supposed to color pictures," Benji says glumly. "I turned around for two seconds to grab some more paper for one girl, and when I turned back around, the wall was smeared with rainbow crayon."

"Same," Janice says.

Benji squints at her. "Don't you teach college art classes?" he asks.

"Your point?" Janice demands.

And thus, tea continues, in all its awkward glory.

Draco quite likes Benji's friends, even though he has no clue how to talk to them. But that is ninety percent of the people he interacts with, anyway, so it's no big deal.

.

**Janice: Hiiiiiiiiiiii**

**Janice: I asked benji for ur number lol i swear i'm not stalking u**

**Janice: But anyway i just wanted to say that u make benj like rEALLY HAPPY**

**Janice: He hasn't been happy for a while ever since the divorce ig and even before that**

**Janice: So nick and i are really glad that u met him**

.

Draco stares at his phone for a long time before swallowing a lump in his throat.

.

**Draco: Thank you**

**Janice: Ofc <3**

**Janice: But also if u break his heart we will chop u up into lil pieces and feed u to our students :)**

**Janice: Jk cannibalism is bad**

**Janice: We'll feed u to our dogs**

**Draco: As you should.**  
.

**Benji: Is your house really haunted**

**Draco: The ghosts of my ancestors feed on the souls of anyone who enters**

**Benji: Cool**

**Benji: Can I meet them?**

.

Draco isn't an idiot.

He knows that it isn't _normal_ to keep one's boyfriend away from one's house as long as possible. But as Draco surveys just the sitting room alone, he cannot help feeling overwhelmed. Despite Draco and Astoria's attempts to brighten the place when Scorpius was born, there is still an atmosphere of gloom and death.

"It's not that bad," Astoria remarks.

Also, a talking portrait of his dead wife hangs on the wall.

"This looks like the kind of home an evil overlord would own," Draco says.

Benji does not seem to _mind_ the weird aspects of Draco. He thinks that Draco's wizarding robes are "cool," finds Draco's essays on cursed objects intriguing even though he doesn't understand what they're talking about half of the time, and watches Draco with fascination while Draco talks about magical creatures and his Hogwarts days (minus the parts about bullying other students).

Of course, Draco can't tell if this is because Benji thinks Draco's stories are interesting or because Benji finds him more attractive when he rambles--apparently, Draco's stare becomes more intense the longer he monologues. Either way, it's slightly flattering.

The problem is, Draco has no idea how to breach the fact that he used to hex and mock students for laughs or the whole Death Eaters fiasco. Draco imagines the conversation going somewhat like this:

" _I joined the Death Eaters, which was a supremacist cult intent on murdering Muggles, Muggleborns, and anyone who got in their way. I watched the Dark Lord torture people and then feed them to his pet snake. I watched my fellow students get slaughtered and did nothing."_

And then it wouldn't even _be_ a conversation because Benji would scoop Sophie up and run away as fast as possible without a single glance back.

"It's January," Astoria says softly.

"I know," Draco says wearily. 

"He'll still love you," Astoria says.

Draco closes his eyes briefly, inhaling shakily.

(It's times like this when Draco is reminded even more of Astoria's death, when he can hear her voice but Draco's breath is the only other sound in the room.)

"Perhaps," whispers Draco.

.

After giving all of the paintings a stern command not to talk while Benji is there, Draco hopes the manor is presentable enough.

Draco reflects on the ridiculous nature of his life. Why is he this anxious about showing Benji his home? Sure, it has a bunch of random cursed objects here and there, but that's pretty much every rich person's house.

Draco side-apparates Benji to the manor. Benji stumbles slightly, his left hand flailing.

"That was . . . different," says Benji. He grins at Draco. "Don't tell Sophie you can do it, or she'll never let you rest."

Draco's throat feels too dry to laugh.

Benji looks around him, and Draco starts to pray for death. Merlin, why didn't he think to hide the painting of the ancient pixie slaughter? Or the solid silver carving of mermaid skeletons? Or the sparkly purple unicorn statue that Astoria bought for the daughter they were never going to have?

"Cool place," Benji says. "Kinda gothic. Were your ancestors emo?"

"They were violent racists who stained the floorboards with blood and bought plush rugs to cover them up," says Draco.

Benji pauses, taken off guard.

"Ah," he says. "My grandma . . . beheaded chickens?"

Draco laughs against his better judgment.

"You're not funny," he says.

"I'm the epitome of humor," Benji says mischievously.

"You're quite full of yourself, you know that?"

Benji grins. "I am incurably smug," he says, lacing his fingers with Draco's. "Going to give me a tour?"

Draco sighs and does as bidded.

.

"And this is a room," Draco says.

"Very roomy," says Benji. He looks up at the ceiling, and his eyes widens. "I'm loving the design. Are the stars painted?"

"Spelled," says Draco.

Benji spots the painting of Astoria and pauses. Draco wants to hit himself. He should have hidden her. Or just avoided the room entirely.

"Is that her?" Benji asks. "She's lovely."

"Thank you," Astoria says brightly.

Benji freezes in place, his eyes wide with shock.

In retrospect, Draco should have known this was going to happen.

"So sorry, did I startle you?" asks Astoria. She covers her mouth. "I forgot. I wasn't going to say anything, but you seemed like such a _lovely_ person--"

"A painting is talking to me," Benji says, dazed. "A painting of my boyfriend's _dead wife_ is talking to me, and she thinks I'm _lovely."_

"Technically, every painting talks," says Astoria. "Draco just didn't want us to scare you."

"My boyfriend didn't want to scare me by having his _dead relatives talk to me,"_ Benji says, his voice getting higher and higher with every word.

Draco wants to die.

.

Draco and Benji lie on the bed, flat on their backs.

"So does it bother you?" Draco whispers.

"What, the velvet covers? I mean, they're kinda out of my price range, but I could get used to living in luxury--"

"The paintings," Draco interrupts. "Do the paintings bother you?"

Benji hesitates.

"I mean, it's different?" he says uncertainly. "But it's kinda like scrapbooks, I guess."

"Scrapbooks," Draco repeats.

"Yeah, my aunt made tons! She liked to do special ones for those who have passed away. She would flip through them whenever she needed a cry."

"I'm so glad I remind you of your aunt's scrapbooks," Draco says sarcastically.

Benji laughs and curls up against Draco's side.

"Don't worry, love," he says, kissing the corner of Draco's mouth. "You're much sexier."

Draco smacks Benji's face lightly, but Benji just laughs.  
 ****.

**Draco: Ginny invited us to dinner**

**Draco: Technically Harry did but it was probably because of Ginny's urging.**

**Draco: You can say no. In fact, you probably want to say no because Harry is incredibly obnoxious. You'll love Ginny, but consider: is meeting her really worth the ordeal that is Harry Potter?**

**Benji: You had dinner with my friends so it's only fair that I do the same 😊**

.

Draco glares at his phone. How dare Benji call Harry his friend?

The sheer audacity--the complete _lack_ of manners--

It's not like Draco even talks about Harry that often. They certainly never spend time with each other, except for when Ginny forces them or when Albus and Scorpius want to hang out with everyone or when Harry feels like randomly dropping by to complain about work or when Draco is so fed up with his newest article that he's about to hurl it at a wall and needs someone to scream about it with or--

Oh, fuck.

Draco is friends with Harry.

Draco hates Benji for giving him that revelation.

.

Dinner starts out fine, for the most part. Benji compliments Harry's cooking, and Harry brightly replies that no slave labor was used in the making of this meal. Ginny gives Harry a death glare, and Harry adopts a serious expression Draco does not trust in the slightest.

"You're a teacher, right?" Ginny asks.

"Nursery school," Benji says.

Ginny glares at Harry after he snorts.

 _"Harry,"_ Ginny says in a warning tone.

"I didn't say anything!" Harry protests.

"Yes, yes," Draco mutters, "it's _so fitting_ that he teaches nursery because I have the emotional maturity of a toddler. Clever, Harry. You must be so proud of your scathing wit."

Benji laughs and gives Draco a friendly bump in the shoulder.

"You use too many big words for me," Benji says. "I don't think I'd be a good teacher for you."

"He always _did_ use interesting words," Harry says thoughtfully.

Ginny kicks him not-so-discreetly under the table.

"He _is_ a writer," Ginny says.

"Has he shown you any of it?" Harry asks.

Benji starts to say, "A few articles--"

"Oh, not _that._ His songwriting skills!"

Benji looks slightly puzzled, and Draco feels the claws of dread sink into his skin. Harry wouldn't. He's obnoxious and oblivious, but he isn't _that--_

"What was it called again?" Harry asks. "The Quidditch one about Ron?"

Draco glares at Harry, his lips thin.

 _"Weasley Is Our King,"_ Ginny says.

"Ginny!" Draco cries.

"What?" Ginny asks defensively. "It's funny."

"Didn't you also dress up as a Dementor to try to make me fall off my broom?" Harry asks.

"You know fully well that I _did,"_ Draco says grimly, "so there is no need to ask."

Benji still looks confused, so Draco explains tightly, "I was a prick in school."

"A _funny_ prick," says Harry.

"I'm so glad you think it's amusing now," Draco says coldly.

"Your crafting skills were _on point._ Those badges--"

"OKAY, NEW TOPIC TIME," Draco says as loudly as possible without shouting.

Harry shrugs, like _suit yourself,_ then begins to pummel Benji with questions about teaching nursery. Benji looks slightly overwhelmed, which serves him right for agreeing to come to this in the first place.

.

"Aren't you going to ask?" Draco asks as Benji drives home.

"Do you want to answer?" Benji asks.

Questions, questions, questions, but never the relevant ones. It makes Draco dizzy sometimes, the way no one really gives answers.

"It doesn't really bother me," Draco says. "Talking about it."

Benji glances at him with pure disbelief, and Draco winces. 

"Usually," Draco amends. "Just . . . it's harder, with you."

"I'm sorry," Benji says quietly.

Draco rests his head against his seat, sighing slightly. He might as well just come out with it.

"I used to bully people," Draco says. 

"And by people, you mean . . . what, Harry?" Unexpectedly, Benji starts to laugh. "You bullied _Harry?"_

Draco stares at Benjii. He's not sure what reaction he expected Benji to have, but amusement didn't even make it on the list.

"I bullied multiple people, but Harry _was_ one of them, and _why are you laughing?"_

"I mean--" Benji clears is throat. "Bad. Very bad. Obviously. Bullying is . . ."

Benji trails off as he checks his blind spots, and Draco says caustically, "Bad?"

"Yes," Benji says absently. "Sorry, I just--your son. And his. Together, when you used to--" He starts to laugh again, this awful cackle that gives Draco the urge to smack him. "It's like poetic justice or something."

"It most certainly is _not,"_ Draco says indignantly.

"Your punishment for shoving heads down toilets is sharing grandkids," Benji says. "Seems poetic to me."

"I never shoved anyone's head down a toilet," Draco says crossly. "I . . ." Draco rubs his eyes and groans. "Shut up."

"I didn't say--"

"You're going to say something, and I'm telling you in advance _not to."_ Draco glares at Benji, who is currently doing a passing impression of a responsible driver. "I made badges. They were magic, and they flashed, _Potter Stinks._ At one point, almost the whole school wore them."

Benji's lips are practically white as he presses them tightly together to try to hold back laughter.

"I stomped on him on the train," Draco says.

"And that was very evil of you," Benji says solemnly, his lips twitching.

"I also tried to kill people," Draco says.

He's not sure why he says it. It's annoying, in a way, the way Benji doesn't seem to actually believe Draco when Draco says that he was a terrible person (which Draco _was_ in a very nonnegotiable way). Sometimes, it's like everything about Draco's past is weighing around him, turning the air into something heavy and suffocating. He can't just act like none of it happened because it _did,_ and Draco always was rubbish at lying anyway.

Benji's quiet for a while.

"You were in a cult," Benji says.

"That doesn't _mean_ anything," Draco says, exasperated. "I still chose to do everything."

"How old were you when you joined?" Benji asks.

Draco says, "Old enough to know better."

"How old were you when your parents joined?"

Draco blinks rapidly. He doesn't know where Benji is going with this, but there's a tiny voice whispering that Draco really doesn't want to know.

"I wasn't born yet," Draco says.

Benji is quiet for a long time. They're almost at his house when he says quietly, "I guess I just don't see the point of blaming you for something you did as a kid when you were basically brainwashed from birth."

"I was sixteen," Draco says.

"You were a child," says Benji, "who was trapped in a cult, and then you got out."

.

**Scorpius: Dad! Pansy never sends me any pics of Hermy**

**Scorpius: I think she blocked me :(((((**

**Scorpius: DAD PLEASE ALBUS AND I NEED THE SEROTONIN SO BAD**

**[Draco has sent a picture.]**

**Scorpius: Can you tell Hermy that I would die for her**

**Draco: No. You're not dying for anyone, least of all a rat named after Hermione Granger.**

**Scorpius: WHAT IF WE CHANGE THE RATS NAME TO BENJI**

**Draco: NO**

**Scorpius: :(**

.

Draco doesn't know to tell Benji.

He has been trying ever since the awkward dinner at the Potters, but Draco always gets stuck on what to say. It's so infuriating. Draco is an author--he makes a living off of words. He wrote an entire book about his sordid past.

But a part of Draco feels used up when it comes to talking about his days as a Death Eater. He's empty, dried up, and just _tired._

As Astoria so helpfully pointed out, Draco has already written everything down. So Draco shows up at Benji's house, book in hand, and lays it on Benji's counter.

Benji's fingers hover over the book.

"You're letting me read this?" Benji asks with surprise.

"Nearly the entire wizarding world has," Draco says.

"But me, specifically," Benji says. "There's a difference, you know, between letting everyone read it and letting _me, specifically_ _,_ read it."

Draco swallows, his throat tight, before nodding shortly.

"It's one of my earlier works," Draco says. "Technique-wise, it wasn't the best."

Draco is rambling. He knows that he should just leave and let Benji read for himself, but the fussy perfectionist in him refuses to shut up.

Draco knows that Benji is going to look down on him for his deeds, but Salazar forbid that Benji looks down on him for his writing.

Benji squeezes Draco's hand gently.

"I'm sure it's fine," he says.

He's not talking about Draco's writing skills, and Draco knows it. He just wishes that Benji were a little less obvious about it.

.

"I gave him my book," Draco says.

Pansy pauses right as she is about to stuff a biscuit into her mouth.

"The book," she repeats. "As in your _Draco Malfoy Tells All_ sob story and cautionary tale?"

Ordinarily, Draco would take offense at her description of his autobiography, but he's currently too busy drowning his sorrows in tea to do anything other than nod.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Pansy says.

She contemplates the crumbs on her napkin as if they will unlock the secrets to fixing Draco's life.

"He's going to leave," Draco says.

Pansy looks at him with incredulity.

"If you think that, then why the Hell did you give him your book?" she demands.

"I wanted to be honest," Draco says morosely, eating a crumb off of Pansy's napkin. He is too depressed to eat a whole biscuit.

"Mistake number one," Pansy says.

Draco eats another crumb, and Pansy slaps his hand away.

"Stop acting like a child, Draco," Pansy says sternly.

"Can't I be depressed in your presence for one minute?" snaps Draco.

"You've been depressed in my presence for the past four years!" Ignoring Draco's sputtering, Pansy continues, "And stop moping. Benji's not going to leave you. He will be appropriately horrified as he reads and then will acknowledge that you are no longer a bratty, racist teenager who committed hate crimes. You'll hug and cry and kiss, and your relationship will be _stronger than ever!"_

Pansy puts on a bright, mocking falsetto when she says the last part, which Draco does not appreciate in the least.

"But what if he doesn't?" Draco asks, snagging another crumb. He quails under the righteous indignation in Pansy's glare.

"Oh, come off it, Draco! Of course he will. _I_ stuck by you, didn't I? And I have _much_ more common sense than your love-addled boyfriend."

Draco considers this carefully.

"I suppose you're right," he says before taking a biscuit and popping it into his mouth.

.

**Benji: Can you come over for a bit?**

**Benji: I just want to talk**

.

When Draco apparates to Benji's house, Benji nearly falls out of his chair.

"Shit," he says, righting himself. "I didn't think you--"

"I can go if you--"

"No, it's fine! I was just surprised is all." Benji looks at Draco and swallows, visibly steeling himself. "Hey."

"Hey," Draco says.

"Your, uh, your book." Benji clears his throat. "I read it and--"

Benji's eyes are too wide without his grin, and he's looking at Draco like he's scared of breaking Draco into a thousand pieces.

"I'm sorry," Benji says softly.

Draco feels so hollow, as if every good part has been scooped out and left to rot.

"Why?" Draco asks, his voice not trembling in the slightest. "Why are you sorry?"

Benji reaches for Draco, then hesitates.

"Is it--is it okay if I hug you?"

Draco nods numbly.

Benji wraps his arms around Draco and rests his forehead against Draco's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "that you have to live with this. And I'm sorry that you were scared to tell me, that you thought I wouldn't stay--"

Draco feels slightly lightheaded.

"Are you sure you read it all?" Draco asks.

Benji pulls away and looks Draco in the eye.

"I did," Benji says firmly. "And it hurt. But I know the man you are now, and you would _never_ make the same choices."

"Some things are unforgivable," Draco says.

Benji snorts.

"How very Christian of you," he says dryly.

Draco blinks rapidly, unsure of where Benji is going with this.

"I," Benji whispers, somehow looking so small, "have spent my whole life trying to atone for my sins, feeling like it's never enough. I was seeking forgiveness for things that happened years ago, despite the only one I needed forgiveness from being God."

"I don't believe in God," says Draco. He's tempted to add that Benji doesn't either, but Benji has such a complex relationship with his religion or lack thereof that Draco has learned not to question it unless Benji _invites_ questions.

"Then why are you so obsessed with forgiveness and redemption?" asks Benji.

Draco stares at Benji blankly. Benji sighs and rests his hand on Draco's cheek.

"You don't need a person's forgiveness to be a good person," Benji says. "You especially don't need forgiveness from people you have never personally wronged."

"I hurt people," Draco says.

Benji says, "You have no need for penance. You grew, you acknowledged your wrongs, and you changed. And that's all that matters."

Draco buries his face in Benji's hair, his hands trembling. He doesn't know how to find the words to respond, but it's a okay. Benji understands Draco's silence as easily as he understands Draco's speech.

.

**Pansy: Told you**

**Draco: Shut up**

**Pansy: Do I hear wedding bells in the future? 😘**

**Draco: If such a thing occurs, you will not be invited**

**Pansy: 😠 rude draco! Incredibly rude especially considering everything ive done for you**

**Pansy: I give u biscuits i hold u when u cry i pretend i dont notice when u lose ur shit over a muggle lifetime movie**

**Draco: I DO NOT**

**Pansy: Imma tell Benji**

**Draco: PANSY I WILL END YOU**

**Draco: PANSY**

**Draco: PANSY!!!!!!**

.

**Scorpius: Dad Albus wants to know if it's ethically ok to transfigure a cursed object into a stuffie**

**Scorpius: Dad?**

**Draco: Tell him to ask McGonagall**

**Draco: And also tell him not to inspect the stuffed dragon that Blaise gave you for Christmas when you we're three**

**Scorpius: WHAT**

**Scorpius: OMG THATS SO COOL**

**Scorpius: I mean. Right. No inspecting. Got it.**

.

"You miss her a lot, don't you," Benji says one night in bed, a few days after Scorpius comes home for Easter break.

"I try not to think about it," Draco says.

"That doesn't really fix anything," Benji says. "I'm pretty sure it makes it worse."

Draco stares up at the ceiling, his throat tightening.

"If I think about it," Draco whispers, "I don't think I would be able to stop."

"You can't just stop yourself from grieving," Benji says. "That's like--that's so destructive to your mental health."

Draco feels cold, despite the warmth of Benji's body pressed against his and the thick comforter over them both. He is pretty sure that he knows where this conversation is going, and he doesn't want to deal with the aftermath of what he tells Benji.

"I think your painting is broken," Benji says after it is clear Draco isn't going to say anything. "She keeps asking me the same thing over and over."

Panic flutters up Draco's throat.

"What does she ask?" Draco asks, dreading Benji's answer.

Benji hesitates before he slowly says, "She asks me if I know that it's okay to cry."

Draco's hands begin to shiver.

"When I was little," Draco starts to say before abruptly stopping.

He waits for Benji to speak, but Draco can barely hear Benji's breath. It's like Benji is trying to be as quiet as possible, even with such a small thing as inhaling and exhaling.

"My father didn't like to hear me cry," Draco whispers. For whatever reason, it feels like he can't say any of these words more loudly, as if a weight is crushing his throat and keeping each word small. "He didn't like noise in general. Children to him were annoyances at best, and I tried _so hard_ to do everything right, to earn his approval. I couldn't cry. I couldn't be weak, no matter how impossible I found it to be strong."

There's a short pause.

"Well, fuck him," Benji says.

Draco snorts. Sometimes, Benji manages to convey more feeling in a simple curse word than Draco ever could in an entire book.

"You know that's not true, right?" asks Benji. "Crying doesn't make anyone weak. It just makes you--"

"If you say that it makes me human, I will smother you," Draco says flatly.

Benji laughs and rolls over, pinning Draco in place.

"Sometimes," Benji says, kissing Draco in between each word, "closure can be a good thing." 

"This--" Benji starts to trail kisses down Draco's neck, and Draco halfheartedly pushes Benji away. "This is _cheating--"_

"I'm not above fighting dirty," Benji says, a roguish grin inching its way up his lips.

"I'm not visiting Astoria's grave for a few kisses," Draco says coolly.

"Don't," Benji says. "Do it for Scorpius."

Draco's breath hitches.

"Have you visited with him?" Benji asks. "Even once?"

_"I miss her," Scorpius said._

"You're _full_ of cheap tricks, aren't you," Draco says dryly.

"I try to use my powers for good."

.

Draco never thought about visiting Astoria's grave.

If he had, he probably would have imagined pale, cloudy skies and quiet rain. Nothing so melodramatic as a thunderstorm, but a definite melancholy in the air.

It turns out that the weather doesn't really matter. The sun could be shining with barely a cloud in sight, and it would still be depressing. Graveyards are hideous in that way--they take every bright and beautiful thing in the world and leech all the color and life.

Scorpius clutches a bouquet of lilies, and Draco watches as the graveyard turns them grey.

He almost didn't come because he didn't see the _point_ of it all. Astoria was in the ground, and no amount of weeping at her grave would change that. But something about the way Scorpius stilled when Draco asked him whether he wanted to go compelled Draco to stick to his promise to Benji.

"Graveyards always have very green grass," Scorpius says distantly.

Draco starts. He forgets, sometimes, the way Scorpius sees things that Draco doesn't.

"Do you think she'd be mad?" Scorpius asks, his voice small. "That we haven't visited before now?"

Draco's breath hitches. He tries to say something, to reassure Scorpius that _of course she wouldn't,_ but the words get stuck in Draco's throat. 

It's so easy for Draco to lie, to avoid the truth, but never with Scorpius. So many things about Scorpius remind Draco of Astoria, and Draco _doesn't know_ if Astoria would be upset that Draco avoided her final resting place for _years._

"I think she would be happy that we're visiting now," says Draco.

His eyes are beginning to burn.

"I just--feel really bad sometimes," Scorpius says. "Because I keep _forgetting_ her, and I don't _want_ to forget her, but I'm _so sick_ of thinking of her and feeling sad."

Draco touches her gravestone, his hand shaking slightly. It doesn't matter what memory of Astoria he dwells upon--all are tainted by her death.

"Did you know," Draco says, his voice rough, "when you were born, she couldn't stop crying?" He can't look at Scorpius as he speaks because otherwise he will not be able to choke out another word. "I didn't understand at first, but then she laid you in my arms. You were so . . ."

_Small and wrinkled and angry and red._

_"He doesn't look a thing like you," Draco said._

_"He's like a potato cursed with a face," Astoria said tearfully before laughing hysterically._

_It wasn't long before the laughter turned into sobs, and Draco was leaning against her forehead, her tears spilling onto Draco's shirt._

A newborn child is simultaneously the ugliest and the most beautiful thing.

Astoria's smiles, her tears, her voice--all of that is gone. Everything, from the moment of her birth to the day of her death, is merely memory and reflection now, and the gaping _lack_ of Draco's knowledge of his own wife is astounding.

It's not like he purposely ignored her presence, but he had the callous assumption that she would live long enough for him to find everything out. And even now as he clings to every scrap of knowledge he possesses, he can feel the memory of her touch fading.

The truth is, even with her painting smiling upon him every time he passes by, Draco struggles to remember what she looked like--really, truly looked like without flecks of paint modeling her skin and hair. He can't remember what her voice sounded like, muddled as he is by the passage of time and the painting's words.

People say that loved ones are not truly gone, that they live on in one's memory, but Draco's memory is so much less than what Astoria deserved. If Draco's memory is the only thing keeping her alive, then her legacy was dead long ago.

She is but dust and bone, trapped in a cage of wood and dirt.

Draco clenches the gravestone, the edges digging into his skin, trying his best to stay upright. But the world is curving, and there is nothing left to keep Draco on his feet. Draco collapses, his knees in the dirt and his forehead against the gravestone. 

The tears begin to spill, and he can't make them stop.

He's trying his best to be quiet because _Malfoy men never give up their dignity, Draco,_ but his chest is heaving without a single breath making its way to his lungs. The gravestone biting into his palms is the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

Scorpius slips his fingers under Draco's and gently pries his hand off the gravestone. Wrapping his thin arms around Draco, Scorpius rests his cheek against Draco's, a muffled sob rising up Scorpius's throat.

.

Draco and Scorpius return home, both far shakier than before. Draco calls Benji, which is ridiculous and embarrassing and _needy,_ but Draco knows he will not be able to do this by himself.

"Did you cry for me?" Astoria asks.

"Yes," Draco says. The mere act of admitting it burns his tongue.

Astoria's lips turn up in a facsimile of a smile, and Draco winces. He draws his wand shakily.

"Are you sure?" Scorpius asks hesitantly.

A part of Draco wants to say _no._ A part of him wants to cling to Astoria with every last bit of strength he has. But Draco can finally see what she has been saying all along. She's not Astoria. She's lines and colors on the wall, made to model a human frame. She's empty, two-dimensional, a mockery of the real person. A puppet, with magic pulling the strings.

There is no expression in her eyes.

"We can't live the rest of our lives talking to the dead," Draco says.

Benji's hand finds Draco's and gives it a comforting squeeze. Draco points his wand at the painting and whispers, _"Confuto."_

All at once, the painting freezes. Despite having the same colors as before, it seems to have lost a part of itself--the shading is off, and it just looks _flat._ Scorpius buries his face in Draco's chest, his shoulders trembling.

Benji does not let go of Draco's hand.

.

**Pansy: I'm proud of you <3**

**Draco: What are you, my mum?**

**Pansy: No**

**Pansy: Blaise is your mum im your crazy aunt who sets things on fire for you**

**Draco: Scarily accurate but okay**

**Draco: How's the rat?**

**Pansy: I changed my mind. I hate you**

.

New beginnings.

That's what Benji keeps spouting when Draco gets frustrated by his inadequacies, by his inability to live somewhere besides the past, when Draco feels trapped in his own skin.

"We're here," Benji likes to says. "We've survived. There is nothing stopping us from starting fresh."

Sometimes, when Draco catches glimpses of his own reflection, he thinks of what Benji is constantly reminding Draco, that he is not trapped in one moment of grief and confused apathy, that he can change things when he does not like them. Draco is allowed to move on, no matter how small or big the issue is.

He thinks of Sophie complaining how rough Draco's hair is, of Benji's soft murmur _(the split ends on these),_ of Draco's own voice _(after Astoria died, I just stopped)._

So many things were hard for Draco after Astoria's death. He could barely take care of Scorpius, let alone himself. Draco had lists of things he needed to do, the simplest being the hardest tasks, such as getting out of bed in the morning and cooking himself a meal. His hair wasn't a priority, and so . . .

Draco just stopped.

Silly as it is, the sight of his hair (roped back, braided, loose around his face) is an image of those awful days of emptiness, of feeling like nothing mattered and every good thing had gone in the ground with his wife. Draco hates the reminder of his days of feeling so hollow and angry and _scared_ at an age when the world expected him to have everything figured out.

Benji understands this on some level. Perhaps he does not know the extent of Draco's dislike for his hair, but Benji sees the parts of Draco that he is terrified of even mentioning to anyone else.

So when Draco says he's going to get a haircut _(just a trim, nothing fancy),_ Benji just smiles, nods, and pecks Draco on the cheek before rushing off to deal with his gremlins.

At the barbers, Draco fully intends to do as he said and just get a trim. But he finds himself asking the barber to cut it shorter and shorter, until the shorn remains of his locks scattered on the floor.

Draco feels so much lighter as he walks out.

Benji doesn't comment on Draco's short hair when they meet again. He just laces his fingers around Draco's neck and pulls Draco in for a kiss.

.

**Benji: I love kids I swear**

**Draco: What happened**

**Benji: There's a love triangle going on right now in my class**

**Draco: Don't you teach three year olds?**

**Benji: YES SKSJSKJSKJS**

**Benji: WHY MUST THEY BE LIKE THIS THEY ARE LITERALLY THREE**

**Draco: What are you going to do if Sophie starts to date?**

**Benji: Cry**

. ****

A few months pass.

"Tell me a story," Sophie says, climbing onto Draco's lap.

"It's almost bedtime for you," Draco says, kissing the crown of her head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco can see Benji look up from where he and Scorpius are bending over a recipe book. A slow smile begins to form on Benji's lips, the kind that Draco used to hate because he had no idea how many other people Benji offered that smile to.

(Draco knows now that the grin Benji reserves for him is different from the smile he shows to everyone else.)

 _"Bedtime_ story," Sophie says with a pout.

Draco laughs and pulls Sophie closer, ruffling her messy pigtails.

"Just one," he says, "spoiled child."

Sophie presses an exaggerated kiss onto Draco's cheek, which is more noise than anything, and settles against his chest.

"Once there was a woman with eyes that changed color, depending on the time and light," Draco says. 

"Like Daddy," Sophie says brightly.

"Just like," Draco agrees, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

Benji has abandoned the recipes completely and is now watching Draco and Sophie, his chin propped up by his fist.

"One day, she met a man who travelled from the stars," Draco says.

"A prince?" Sophie asks.

"A king," Draco says. Benji and Scorpius start to drift over to the couch. "He wanted to show her his kingdom, for although it was dark, it had the brightest lights she had ever seen."

Scorpius settles onto the couch, his head resting against Draco's arm, and Benji sits on the other side of Draco, his hand briefly squeezing Draco's.

"Did they get married?" Sophie asks.

"They tried," Draco says. "But his kingdom was so cold and unlike anything she was used to, so she withered away before his eyes."

"That's _sad,"_ Sophie says indignantly. "It's s'posed to have a happy ending!"

"Patience, princess," Benji says, tweaking one of her pigtails.

Sophie pouts and Scorpius stifles a snort.

"The last thing to fade away was the color in her eyes," Draco says, his voice getting quieter with every word. "At the very last minute, the king had an idea. He stole the color from her eyes and trapped it in a silver jar. He and his magicians breathed magic into the jar, and the woman rose from it, as beautiful as the day the king met her. But because she was nothing more than thought and spirit and color, she could not stay."

"It's _still_ sad," Sophie says with a pout.

Scorpius shushes her.

"The king took her and gave her the earth where the sun warmed her spirits," Draco says. "She enveloped the earth, protecting it from the cold and the dark, and the sun lit up all her colors to a beauty that no one among the stars had ever seen. The king came and danced with her every night, swallowing her brilliant light with his velvet black. Despite his cloak of darkness, the woman's colors would still seep through, allowing the people on earth reprieve even on the darkest nights. Their dance lives on today."

"I don't get it," Sophie says, scrunching her face up.

Scorpius pokes Sophie's stomach, and she giggles, swatting his hand away.

"That's why the sky has so many different colors," Scorpius says importantly. "The woman in the sky blesses us with her presence, and at night, she still protects us from complete blackness like we had before."

Sophie stares at Draco and Scorpius with disappointment.

"That's just _silly,"_ she huffs. "There's no _woman._ There's just clouds and things up there. Don't you two know _anything?"_

"You believe in fairies but not the woman in the sky?" Scorpius asks.

"Fairies are _real,"_ Sophie says indignantly.

Scorpius practically collapses on top of Draco with laughter. Benji rolls his eyes and musses Sophie's hair.

"Bedtime," he says, giving her nose a peck.

 _"Daddy,"_ Sophie wails. "I just napped a few _hours_ ago."

Scorpius grins and hoists her up from Draco's lap.

"C'mon, Soph, you can teach me what the sky is _really_ like," he says, latching hands with her and leading her away.

"First of all," Sophie huffs as she and Scorpius walk away, "there's no such thing as a woman in the sky. That's just _stupid--_ everyone knows that the sprites live up there, not _women . . ."_

Her voices fades away, and Benji grins at Draco with half-lidded eyes.

"Nice story," Benji says.

Draco lets his body curve with a soft exhale, and Benji's hand slips down Draco's spine. Draco rests his head on Benji's lap, drawing his legs onto the couch.

"So I'm your colors in the sky, huh," Benji says, brushing Draco's hair away from his face.

"You _did_ bring light to my life," Draco says.

Benji snorts, gathering Draco in his arms. Draco sits in Benji's lap, his forehead resting against Benji's, inhaling and exhaling in time to Benji's breaths.

"You're so cheesy," Benji mumbles.

"It's not cheesy if it's true."

"That is the _definition_ of cheesy," Benji says, laughing. "It's so true that everyone says it, and it becomes a cliché."

Draco curls up into Benji's body, burying his face into Benji's neck.

"Only for you," Draco whispers into Benji's skin.

There are so many things that Draco still cannot do or even say. The word _love_ floats elusively, out of reach, slipping through his fingers whenever he reaches out to grasp it. It's frustrating sometimes, the way Draco can say things like _you bring light to my life_ but never the three simple words he really means. 

Draco doesn't know if he'll ever be able to handle the things that come so naturally to Benji, who gives away smiles for free and says _I love you_ like it doesn't cost him all his breath to force out the words. But Benji has reminded Draco time and time again that he's not going anywhere, and Draco is finally starting to fully accept that _this_ is here to stay.

Draco looks up and meets Benji's eyes. He opens his mouth, but the words get trapped in his throat.

Benji kisses Draco slowly, stroking the lines of Draco's cheeks with his thumbs, and Draco feels his shoulders relax.

"I know, love," Benji murmurs against Draco's lips. "As do I."

.

**Scorpius: 7**

**Benji: 7**

**Scorpius: 7777777**

**Scorpius: Are we ever gonna tell him that this is not what he thinks it is?**

**Benji: Maybe after the wedding**

**Scorpius: 777777777777777**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that not everyone celebrates Christmas; however, I am also aware that this can be a lonely time for those who do. I just want to remind all of you that you are loved, no matter what family shit you have to deal with.
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your comments! You have no idea how much they encouraged me. <3
> 
> Gracias por tus amables comentarios! Me encantan nuestras conversaciones. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Write a comment below or come chat with me on tumblr at darrinya.tumblr.com
> 
> Follow scorpiusdraco.tumblr.com where you can find all kinds of delightful Harry Potter and Cursed Child fanart! He helped me a lot with this fic, from creating Benji's character in the first place to tweaking the outline itself. 
> 
> littlefanbean.tumblr.com helped beta this (and laughed at me for about three minutes as I attempted to English but oh well). If you like scorbus or Good Omens, I would highly advise checking her art out, too.


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